Ladder
by Unliteration
Summary: It's easier to say goodbye to the world when it says goodbye first. First in the Ladder series. Continued in "Unstrung" and "Crimson and White."
1. Chapter 1

Ladder

It's easier to say goodbye to the world when it says goodbye first.

First in Ladder series. Followed by "Unstrung" and "Crimson and White."

Author's Forward:

First, I dislike fanfiction in which well-established characters make major departures from their normal personality without a good reason or explanation. If you're in the same boat and this story starts to bother you for that reason, remember that and please be patient.

Second, music played a role in writing this story. For those fortunate enough to own various Silent Hill sound tracks (or who care to download the freely-available Broken Notes albums), at the top of each chapter is the track I used to set the mood while writing it. Listening to these while reading shouldn't be at all necessary to enjoy this story, but they may enhance the experience, and in many cases serve as excellent chapter titles anyway. If you do listen, remember to loop each track until you finish its chapter.

Despite my music choices, this fic isn't tied to Silent Hill in any real fashion. This is not a crossover.

For ease of reference, here are the tracks in the order they appear:

Silent Hill 2: The Day of Night

Silent Hill 2: Prisonic Fairytale

Silent Hill 3 (unreleased track): Familiar Places

Broken Notes Vol1: Dawn of Day

Silent Hill 4 (Limited Edition): Lifetime

Silent Hill 1: Only You

Broken Notes Vol1: Desolation

Silent Hill 4: E-Tangin

Broken Notes Vol1: Screaming Flux

Silent Hill 2 (unreleased track): Blood Pulse

Silent Hill 4: The Suicidal Clock Chime

Broken Notes Vol1: Search for Cheryl

Broken Notes from the Vault: Station

Silent Hill 4: Resting Comfortably

Broken Notes Intermission Vol 2: Crimson Paintings

Silent Hill 2: Black Fairy

Silent Hill 3: Lost Cause

Silent Hill 1: Never Again (track 29)

Silent Hill 1: Die

Silent Hill 4: Room of Angel

Chapter 1

Buttercup loosed a primal scream as she flew through the iridescent clouds of the nebula. Her charge led her on a direct course to a large black craft with a mirror-like gloss. As she drew nearer, she lowered her head, thrust her fist forward, and gritted her teeth at the expected impact. As she plowed through the hull of the ship, she felt a sharp pain in her head just before the world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

[Silent Hill 2: The Day of Night

Buttercup's mind swam in darkness. She moaned softly in pain, writhing. Her trembling hand drifted to her head and she felt some wet, slimy substance. The sudden, terrifying thought that she was touching her brain came to her, and she opened her eyes as she screamed.

She felt soft, strong hands push her onto her back once more. Blossom stood beside the bed, looking concerned at her outburst. Buttercup realized she was back in their borrowed space ship.

As she allowed herself to settle into the firm mattress, Buttercup realized her hand was still touching the unnerving substance. Another moment of panic came when she pulled her hand away and found whatever she had grabbed peeled away.

Then she brought it before her eyes and recognized it as something resembling a damp washcloth. Earth had nothing quite like these, but she recognized it just the same. Whatever the material was, it did acquire an uncomfortably slimy texture when wet. Although she'd bathed several times in their voyage, forced to use the oddly cleansing cloths in lieu of soap or shampoo, it was still not a texture she enjoyed.

Now age eleven, after six years of serving Earth as a superhero, she'd finally been called (along with the rest of her family) to deal with an interstellar threat that had come too close to home. While it had been exciting at first, in all honestly, she looked forward to setting foot on Earth again and not looking back.

"Professor, she's up!" Blossom called casually through an open doorway. Buttercup was lying in what had been her bed for the last three weeks, plus however long she'd been unconscious.

Buttercup scowled at the washcloth and flung it aside. It made a wet plop as it hit the floor. She rubbed her head, feeling a slight sting when her fingers ran over a lump.

"Thank goodness," Professor said from the hallway, his voice growing nearer as he spoke. Blossom left the doorway, leaning on the wall near the foot of Buttercup's bed. "I was beginning to worry she might not wake up today!" He did not pause when he entered the room, walking to Buttercup's side and pulling pen-sized flashlight from his pocket.

The light was uncomfortably bright to her eyes, so she reflexively closed them and turned her head away.

"Look here, Buttercup. Look at me, now," Professor ordered with clinical coldness.

Buttercup did as her father told her, trying her best not to squint.

"I told you not to go out there," Blossom said, crossing her arms and smirking.

"Did I get 'em?" Buttercup asked, still staring at the light. She did not have to look at her sister to imagine her smug expression.

"Yes, but you gave yourself a pretty nasty concussion in the process," Professor said. He finally clicked the light off and put it back in his pocket. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two," Buttercup answered. Casting her gaze to his other hand, still hidden in his pocket, she added, "and three more in your pocket."

"Buttercup!" Bubbles screamed as she flew into the room in a flash of blue. Buttercup sat up in surprise and remained that way as Bubbles wrapped her arms tightly around her. Buttercup's chin rested on her sister's head.

"Hey, lay off!" Buttercup said gruffly, even though she smiled at her sister's overreaction to a little bump on the head. At first she only weakly tried to push Bubbles away, but her sister didn't take the hint.

"Buttercup!" she cried again, still shouting despite their proximity. Almost in tears, now, she lifted her head up and kissed her sister's cheek. Then a second time. And a third. Buttercup slowly sank back onto the bed as the onslaught continued, and she couldn't help but be reminded of a small puppy greeting his human child owner.

"Hey, cut it out!" Buttercup demanded, more sternly this time, and inwardly disturbed a little by the display, unusual even for Bubbles. She was finally able to push her sister off, after which Bubbles continued to slide until one foot reached on the floor and supported her. Bubbles held herself up with both arms, her other leg also resting on the bed. Her eyes were indeed filled with tears.

"What the heck are you so worked up about?" Buttercup asked, eying her sister strangely.

One of Bubbles's cheeks twitched in a brief hint of a smile. "I was worried about you. You got hurt pretty bad, and it took us so long to find you after the ship exploded."

"Five minutes," Blossom said, dismissing the search effort with a wave of her hand as she continued to lean against the wall.

Professor sat on the corner of Buttercup's bed. His weight pressing down caused Bubbles to slide further, leaving her kneeling beside the bed as if in prayer.

"That was very reckless, Buttercup. Going out there unprotected could have left you in a much worse state than this. Now I want you to rest here until we get back to Earth."

Buttercup took on a look of defiant surprise. "But what about the other two ships! We're not gonna let those guys get away, are we?"

"While you were out, we received a communication from the Telorian authorities. The other two ships encountered one of their border patrols. One was destroyed. The other crew surrendered once their ship was crippled. The survivors are going to be transported to the Kess Sector for their trial. Earth wasn't the only planet these outlaws have offended."

Professor put his hand on Bubbles's shoulder. "Come on, girls," he said, "Let's leave your sister to rest up for a bit." Turning again to Buttercup, he added, "We'll bring supper to you in a little bit. Just try to take it easy."

"But I feel fine," Buttercup sulked.

"Then consider this your punishment, and be happy that's all you're getting."

"But I'm a superhero, dad! I gotta take risks!"

"Yes, but you disobeyed Blossom. You're part of a team, and acting on your own like that... What would we have done if they'd unloaded all their munitions while you were out there? Our _ship_ would have survived. Maybe it would have been damaged, but it would be serviceable. What if your stunt had gotten you killed? What if your sisters perished later because you weren't there to help them? This is much more than a team, after all. This is your family, and I know you love your sisters better than to put them through that. Now you think about that on the trip back."

Professor Utonium rose and departed, Bubbles at his heels. When they passed, Blossom left her spot against the wall and returned to Buttercup's side. She held her long, red hair to the side as she leaned over and kissed the cheek Bubbles had neglected.

Blossom smiled and whispered, "Off the record, I was worried too, okay?"

She waved as she left the room, leaving the door open behind her. Buttercup absentmindedly rubbed the lump again, wondering why everyone had to make such a big deal out of this.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

[Silent Hill 2: Prisonic Fairytale

Buttercup jumped at the sound of her alarm clock. Before they took separate rooms, she'd once enjoyed the luxury of her sisters waking her. Soft alarms were enough for them, though Buttercup always slept through. Now alone, her much louder alarm jarred her out of sleep, and she missed the (sometimes) gentle rocking of her shoulder she once had.

There were ups and downs to splitting up. They'd all been excited to have their own rooms, even though it was Professor who had suggested it a few weeks before their eleventh birthday, much as he had suggested separate beds when they turned eight.

She turned the alarm off, careful as always not to smash it by "accident." Sitting upright to avoid falling back to sleep, she inwardly complained about having to go straight back to school after their trip to space. After being confined to bed for the two days of their trip home, her sleep last night had been difficult and restless.

Reason enough, she felt, to be upset that Professor had insisted she "rest up" and then turn around and send her back to business as usual. On a Friday, no less. What would have been the harm of skipping one more day of school in celebration of their hard work?

Once dressed and downstairs, Buttercup found her sisters eating cereal. Bubbles had already set out a bowl for her. Buttercup had grown to like her cereal slightly soggy, but her mornings were usually too rushed for that.

Bad mood aside, Buttercup found herself smiling today. It was a small thing, certainly, but representative. Bubbles was so always sweet to her family, and it felt good to have even this little reminder that life was back to normal.

Blossom seemed lost in thought and didn't respond to Buttercup's entrance at all. Bubbles at least offered a brief smile before she resumed eating.

"Thanks for breakfast, Bubbles," Buttercup offered, feeling unusually gracious today.

Bubbles smiled back and tried to speak, but had to swallow her food and try again. "It's no problem. How're you feeling today?"

"Pent up. I hope we get to see some action today, so I have an excuse to move around."

"Well, I hope you learned your lesson," Blossom piped, though her expression indicated her thoughts were still mostly elsewhere.

"Yeah, whatever," Buttercup responded. "I don't know what the big deal is. I'm fine, right?" Starting on her breakfast, she offhandedly added, "I mean, we're always fine."

After that she was surprised to feel Bubbles's hand on her shoulder. When she turned to face her, Bubbles said, "Just promise you won't ever leave us, okay?"

Buttercup scrunched her eyebrows in a moment of confusion. "Well, sure. Of course, Bubbles. Why would you even say that?"

"We all love you, Buttercup. I know you don't like when we say it, but we do. I just don't want you forgetting that."

Buttercup shrugged away her sister's hand. "Yeah, whatever. I know. You guys don't need to make a big thing out of it."

Blossom pushed her empty bowl away, returning from her reverie. "Bubbles and I are going to go early and get all our make-up work. We'll catch up with you in class, so enjoy your breakfast."

Buttercup nodded, and without another word her sisters rinsed their bowls in the sink and left. For the next few minutes Buttercup ate in silence and wondered how she could convince Blossom to help with said homework despite her uppity attitude over Buttercup's rashness.

After finishing up, she also rinsed out her bowl and headed for the door, picking up her backpack and slinging it over one shoulder as she went.

The springtime sun had nearly moved past dawn into daylight. Buttercup's leisurely flight through the cool morning air was uneventful. She glanced at the streets, already filled with cars. It was hard to tell, but it looked like none of them were moving. Things sometimes seemed that way from this height.

Looking ahead, she focused on Grassy Hill Elementary School. Just another month or so and she'd be through with fifth grade and ready to enjoy her summer. Already she enjoyed the idea of having more time to herself, if only between monster battles and crime fighting.

The grounds outside the school were vacant, but this wouldn't be the first time she'd come in a little late. Arriving without her sisters was a rarity, however. She touched down at the tip of the leftmost of three "prongs" of the building, the fifth and sixth grade section.

She entered the building, beginning her trek through the empty hallway to her class on the other end. The metal door, its hydraulic hinge having long ago lost its spirit, clanged shut loudly, echoing briefly in the long space.

Buttercup's footsteps also echoed slightly as she walked. She turned her eyes to the decorations on the walls. While she was away, the fifth grade classes had finished their wildlife projects. Cutouts and drawings of various animals adorned the walls. Her class had done aquatic life, and even from here she could make out the wide swath of blue background and the brightly colored fish amidst it. Other sea creatures hung from the ceiling on strings. She had planned to do a seahorse. Yet another luxury given up for sake of serving others.

Nearly at her classroom, she furrowed her brow at a sight a little further down. The doors leading to the other wings had been removed, but a large grate had been put up in their place. It looked like one a store in a mall or on the street would use. It was even padlocked to the floor.

Her curiosity piqued, she walked beyond her classroom to the grating and looked beyond. The rest of the school was as vacant as the hall, and dark. The lights were out and the windows were covered with thick canvas. White cloth spread over the floors. Further down, almost out of sight in the dimness, was a stepladder.

"Hey," Bubbles said. Buttercup jumped and spun her head around to her sister behind her. Sounds of the various classes wandering the hallway filled her ears. "Everyone's going to check out each other's exhibits. They all waited for us to get back! Isn't that nice?"

"Yeah," Buttercup choked out, trying to hide her surprise. "Umm, what's with the rest of the school?" Buttercup asked, nodding at the grate behind her.

"Oh, teacher said they're turning this into a middle school. The state's also changing grades around, so next year sixth grade will count as middle school. They moved the other classes to Midwich Elementary already, but we'll get the stay here for the next three years! Isn't that cool?" Bubbles paused. With a look of concentration, she counted the grades off under her breath. "Yeah, three years."

"Great," Buttercup said flatly, considering this unnecessary and foolish on a grand scale. "I guess it's not my problem if they want to move kids in the middle of the year. What about the playground? I didn't think junior high kids got recess."

Bubbles giggled. "I asked Mrs. Jones the same thing. They're going to move the equipment to Toluca Park this summer."

"Huh," Buttercup said offhandedly as she began to walk down the halls with Bubbles, this time pausing along the way to read the little factoids that were tacked up beside the artwork.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

[Silent Hill 3 (unreleased track): Familiar Places

The students were served bag lunches in their classrooms, due to the cafeteria being in the unused portion of the school. A few hours later, Buttercup asked to use the restroom and returned once more to the hallway.

Along the way, she wondered again if she and her sisters would be called into action today. Surely Mojo would cause trouble, if no one else. She couldn't imagine him having the better part of a month to devise a plan without something prepared for their return.

Buttercup pushed open the swinging door and stepped in. She walked only few feet in before she stopped. She'd heard a moan. Almost a groan.

She remained still and listened. Again came the strained sound, followed by a brief sob. When another strained sound came from the bathroom beyond, Buttercup blushed, wondering if she should come back later. But she had to pee so bad.

Briefly she considered using the boys room. Of course, if she got caught, they'd never let her out to use the restroom again without someone accompanying her. At least that's what they'd said when they caught her last time.

Shaking her head, she put those thoughts away and decided to just get it over with. She lifted off the floor and glided slowly, silently to the furthest of the four stalls. The one nearest the entrance was closed.

Buttercup carefully closed her door and turned around as she hooked her thumbs in her pants. Her face screwed up in disgust at the sight of the toilet. Clean and ordinary in her memory, it was now covered in shades of yellow and rusty brown. The gleaming finish of the flush handle had all but flaked off, revealing corroded metal. The bowl was filled with dark liquid, and she couldn't even see the bottom.

She slipped back out and moved to the next stall, wishing they'd have put an out of order sign up at the very least. Then again, maybe it was working fine, but she wasn't about to try.

She checked the next toilet before she even closed the door. In this she saw a faint red trail along the bottom of the bowl, leading away from a very bloody pad that, while once wadded up, had started to open again in the water. Though she and her sisters hadn't needed such things yet, Buttercup recognized it for what it was and silently cursed the inconsiderate girl that had left it.

Her expression became one of internal debate as she considered this travesty and then looked to her right, to the final open stall. The groans and sobs of the girl in the first hadn't stopped. Buttercup really didn't want to sit right next to her if she could avoid it.

Instead she flushed this toilet, not daring to fish out the used pad first. As she feared, shortly after it disappeared the water level started rising. She backed off, but fortunately it stopped just short of overflowing.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Buttercup briefly considered her situation again before making her way to the final open stall.

This one, at least, looked normal. Buttercup considered voicing an apology to the girl next door, but decided against it. It would have just made things more awkward.

She finally dropped her pants and sat. The sounds beside her seemed much louder now that she was closer. Despite the great pressure on her bladder, she just couldn't manage to relieve herself.

After some quiet straining of her own, she managed no better. Just enough, she fumed inwardly, to have to wipe.

Sneering, she practically slammed her stall door open as she stomped to the sink, washing her hands. She scowled in the mirror at the door of the first stall, blaming the girl within for her troubles. Reaching for the paper towel dispenser, she considered the fullness of her bladder again. Considered the boys room again.

She looked back to the sink, then to the occupied stall. Her gaze swept between the two several times before she shook her head roughly.

As if that would be any easier. Not only would she still hear the girl clearly, but she'd have to watch the hallway to avoid getting caught peeing in the sink. If she was going to do that, she might as well try a stall in the boys room.

Her way out took her near the first stall, and Buttercup stopped again. How long had this ordeal gone on, again? And not once did she hear anything indicating the poor girl was getting anywhere.

Sighing in her annoyance, Buttercup regretted her role of aide to society as she walked backwards two steps, putting her in line with the door.

After some hesitation, she raised her hand to gently knock, but held still again. After a few more choked sobs from within, instead she just asked, "Hey, are you okay?"

A few cries were the only response she got. After another painful-sounding moan, Buttercup asked, "Do you want me to call the nurse?" A few panting breaths preceded another grunt. "Hello?"

Buttercup finally knocked. To her surprise, it began to slowly swing open, apparently having never been locked.

She remained still as the door swung wide. The sounds had stopped.

The stall was empty.

Feeling a mixture of anger and unease, Buttercup's super-powered eyes swept through the room. She didn't see any speakers or other devices hidden away. There was no guessing what had caused those sounds.

Goosebumps spread along Buttercup's neck and across her arms. Her full bladder forgotten for the moment, she darted out of the bathroom and returned to class.

No one acknowledged her return other than to glance at the door briefly when it opened. An embarrassed shuffle brought Buttercup back to her desk, where she tried hard to pay attention to the lecture.

A few minutes later, she felt a spreading, pleasant warmth. Almost immediately she wondered at its source, and just as quickly her head shot up from her workbook, her eyes wide. She heard a small trickle of liquid splash on the tile floor below.

Some muffled giggles and whispering filled the room as Buttercup looked down, confirming her fears. Her eyes began to well with tears she hadn't invited.

"Buttercup," Mrs. Jones began tentatively. After a pause, she continued just as uncertainly, "Did you have an accident?"

A renewed wave of giggles and snickering filled the room. Buttercup stood up quickly, her desk scraping against the floor in the process, and flew through the classroom door as the final bell rang behind her.

Buttercup went straight home at high speed, zipping through her bedroom briefly before darting into the bathroom, a change of clothes in her arms. She disrobed and wet a washcloth, failing to will her tears or shame away as she wiped her bare skin.

A knock came from the door, followed by Bubbles's voice. "Buttercup? Are you all right?"

Buttercup almost responded with profanity, but caught herself and said, in a voice that wavered much more than she'd expected, "Yeah. I'll be right out."

After a short pause, the shadow of feet under the door left. Buttercup was too afraid to peer through the door to see her sister's reaction, worried she would discover Bubbles doing the same to her.

Once she'd cleaned up and redressed, she washed her face, trying to reduce the redness of her eyes and nose as much as she could before stepping outside.

Apparently hearing the door open, Professor immediately called out from downstairs. "Buttercup? Would you come here for a moment, please?"

Buttercup tried to swallow but found her throat dry and tight. Slowly she plodded down the stairs, her eyes on her bare feet. She didn't look up until she rounded the corner, into the kitchen. Her family was sitting at the table. Bubbles looked up and smiled, but quickly turned away, not sure whether her sister wanted a comforting presence or to be left alone. Blossom was already busy with her make-up homework and either didn't bother or kindly chose not to look up. Professor left the table and walked over to her.

"Are you all right, honey? The girls said you had an accident at school."

Buttercup winced at the word "accident." It sounded so childish. She felt like the use of it brought her down several notches all at once. "Yeah, I just... I dunno. I'm okay."

"She'd just got back from the bathroom when it happened," Blossom said casually, circling multiple choice answers at a steady pace.

"I--I couldn't go, all right?"

"Why was that? Was there a problem?" Professor asked.

Buttercup was silent. She wasn't going to tell them about the sounds of a girl that turned out not to be there.

"I thought I was done," she lied meekly, turning her eyes to the floor again as she did so. "Can I go up, now?"

Professor paused briefly before saying, "Of course."

Without wasting another moment, even to glance at their expressions, Buttercup shot up to her room in a flash of green.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

[Broken Notes Vol1: Dawn of Day

Buttercup awoke for the day according to her body's own preferences, rather than the alarm's. She'd spent yesterday afternoon in her room, listening to music and reading some of her old comic books. Later, emerging for dinner, she had found her make-up homework sitting outside her bedroom door. She used that work as an excuse to take her plate up to her room and be alone.

Yawning deeply enough to blur her vision with moisture, her thoughts returned to the present as her eyes rested on what was left to do. It had taken all evening to get through just a single quiz, leaving her doubting that hunting for the answers was any easier than reading the whole section would have been.

The thought of it prompted a sigh, though with the weary effort she gave it anyone else would hardly have recognized it as more than a normal exhalation.

She drifted upwards listlessly, letting her bed covers fall as became upright and continued rising. She stopped when her dangling toes were a few inches above the mattress and regarded her reflection in the full-length mirror on wall beside her door. From this angle she couldn't see her face, so she regarded her faded green nightgown with its modest white lacing.

It seemed a waste now that she had her own room. In Summer it would be a bother, too. Wasn't underwear enough? Maybe she'd start throwing on the gown only if she needed to step out. For that matter, maybe she would try sleeping without any clothes at all.

Of course, she thought, things could get embarrassing the next time a villain smashed open their home in the middle of the night.

So much for her expectations of Mojo stirring up trouble upon their return, she mused. Or anyone else for that matter. Maybe today she'd get to have some excitement. Failing that, she could run laps along the highways. Maybe she'd stop for lunch at the little dinette just outside the city limits. Their grilled cheese sandwiches in particular were delicious.

Buttercup realized she'd been smiling only when she felt her face droop. Her eyes had met her pile of homework, again. This time her sigh was unmistakable as such.

She stopped hovering, jumping off the bed when she landed. Quickly dressing and leaving her room, she hopped over the second floor railing to the living room below, deciding she'd get her kicks where she could.

Professor, also just waking up, was already in the kitchen. Before he turned to greet her, she put on her best "leave me alone" face and hoped he wouldn't bring up yesterday's incident again.

_Yeah, incident_, she though to herself. _Sounds better than "accident" to me._

But Professor just smiled and nodded at her, finished pouring his juice, and left for the lab with his breakfast in hand. It seemed he was keeping busy. This happened in spurts, she'd noticed.

Alone again, Buttercup settled for toasting some frozen waffles. She sat on her bed with her plate in one hand and her social studies book open before her. By the time she popped the last piece into her mouth, she'd almost managed to finish a second paragraph.

Deciding that even groveling (or apologizing, which was no better) would be better than this, she gathered up her school things and headed for Blossom's room.

"Come in," came the reply to her knock.

Buttercup smiled briefly when she saw Blossom was already tutoring Bubbles. Blossom just as briefly cocked an eyebrow at the sight of Buttercup's loaded arms.

"Okay. Have a seat," Blossom said evenly.

Buttercup took a spot on the corner of Blossom's bed, nearest the desk/bookshelf where Bubbles sat and Blossom stood.

"My bag's in the closet," Blossom said, focusing on Bubbles's work as she spoke. "Could you get it, please?"

Buttercup set her things down and nodded, though the gesture was unseen. Shortly, she held out the pink bag to Blossom, who waited to finish with Bubbles before taking it.

"And now what do you do?" Blossom asked Bubbles.

"Umm... I don't know," she responded after some thought.

"Is there anything else you can do? Are there any more numbers across the top?"

"No, but-- Oh, so this is the remainder, right?"

"Uh huh," Blossom acknowledged before finally turning to accept her bag. Without a word or gesture of thanks, she dropped her backpack on the bed and opened it. She retrieved a handful of notebook papers from a folder and handed them to Buttercup. "Go ahead and fill in your quizzes and section questions. And _study_ them, all right? If there's anything you don't understand, let me know."

Buttercup's eyes bulged. "You're...letting me copy your homework?"

"We missed three weeks, and there's not a lot of time left to catch up this year. Just do what you need so you can understand what we're doing in class now. If we ever have to be gone this long again, we'll just have to remember to get our work ahead of time."

"I don't think so. We can get anywhere on the face of the planet in a couple of seconds. Anywhere further than that, you can count me out."

Blossom smiled, now. "Yeah, it did kinda suck." Her expression and tone became more cautious as she continued. "I think the stress kind of got to us all. Don't you think?"

The watchful, almost hawk-like regard Blossom gave her led Buttercup to think yesterday's "incident" was on Blossom's mind.

When the only response she received was Buttercup's even-faced, heavy-lidded glare, Blossom shrugged and said again, "Anyway, just study up, all right? You won't get anything out of it if you just copy it. I'm sure you could both be at the top of the class with me if you tried harder."

"Yeah, but what's the point? You'll always be smarter than us."

"Oh, really? Well, if you think I don't put any effort into it you're wrong. Look at it this way: the rate we're going, you're always going to be stronger than Bubbles and me. But if you start sitting on your butt all day eating junk food while we work out, we _will_ get better than you. On the other hand, if you _don't_ put effort into your school work, you'll keep falling farther behind. If the three of us want to stick together, we all have to work hard."

Still miffed at Blossom's attempt to bring up yesterday's embarrassment, Buttercup just shrugged in response.

"Blossom, what's fifty percent of one-and-three-quarters?"

Blossom glanced over her shoulder at their sister, gave Buttercup another friendly smile, and went back to her tutoring.

Buttercup regarded the two of them for a few moments before sitting on the bed again, proceeding to knock out the lion's share of her homework in about ten minutes. She felt like she could hug Blossom for her charity. If she did something that out of character, though, she figured they really would start to worry about her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

[Silent Hill 4 (Limited Edition): Lifetime

Around noon, when Blossom called her sisters out to go on patrol, Buttercup mentioned her desire to stretch her muscles and asked if she could cover the ground. Blossom considered the idea and seemed to find no fault with it, and Buttercup soon landed on a grassy highway median.

Even doing some basic stretches made her feel better. While she geared up for her run, she decided that Blossom had a point that morning. Buttercup just plain liked to be worn out, breathless, and sweaty. Maybe she owed some of her strength to enjoying the things that made her stronger.

Whether it was the key to her success was open to debate. Whether she liked it--she mused, smiling--was not.

Nearly an hour later, her sisters joined her, flying in low and hitting the ground running. The three of the sped past the nearby cars, careful to stay on the shoulder and avoid startling the drivers.

"Just some pickpockets and a minor car accident," Blossom informed Buttercup from one side.

"No one was even hurt," Bubbles added from the other.

"I caught three people speeding and gave 'em a warning," Buttercup offered. "Real quiet today, huh?"

"Seems that way. Bubbles and I were thinking about grabbing some lunch."

"Sounds good. I might stop by Rosella's a little later. I barely worked up a sweat."

"Ooh, the diner lady's?" Bubbles asked excitedly. "Can I get a malt?"

"You know, it does feel good to stretch my legs," Blossom said. "Maybe we'll follow you for a bit, then we can all eat at the dinette."

"Whatever you say," Buttercup said curtly as she wound her way up another exit ramp. She figured one last pass would be good enough for her.

Rosella was a kind, middle-aged widow whose son they had saved from a massive fire at his office. By chance they stopped at her dinette a few months later, upon which she introduced herself and thanked them. She refused to accept payment when the girls took meals there, though sometimes they sneaked money into the till when she wasn't looking.

Over their meal, Blossom spoke. "Bubbles and I were thinking of doing something fun together tonight. Just the three of us."

Buttercup turned away and rolled her eyes. "As if being stuck together in that ship for three weeks wasn't bad enough. I'd rather have some time to myself, thanks."

"That wasn't the same," Bubbles pointed out. "There wasn't anything fun to do."

"Besides, you just spent most of the time lounging in your bed even before it was a punishment," Blossom added. "We don't have fun together anymore, don't you think?"

"Yeah, and that sounds like reason enough to keep our distance, if you ask me. Maybe we should find other people to hang out with."

Now Blossom rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. Last summer you were either holed up in your room or working out alone, unless someone else intervened."

"Don't you like being with us, Buttercup?" Bubbles asked in a sweet voice that somehow made Buttercup feel guilty. "You always grump when we do family stuff, but you have a good time in the end."

"Yeah, but I have a good time alone, too. Plus, it's a lot less hassle."

Blossom chimed in again. "Oh, how much hassle could one night be? Besides, I practically did your homework for you. You owe me."

"Fine, fine, whatever. What do you even want to do, anyway?"

"Slumber party," Bubbles chirped before returning to her straw.

Blossom clarified. "Maybe we'll pick out a few movies or something. But just, you know, hang out together, like old times."

Buttercup sighed and nodded, conceding the battle.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

[Silent Hill 1: Only You

Around nine that night, Buttercup felt a nervousness that grew as she shuffled the short distance to their old room, now Bubbles's room. It felt more like she was attending a sleepover with a friend-of-a-friend than with her own sisters. She considered just how distant she must have grown to feel this way, realized how little time she spent with them outside of their crime fighting duties.

She did not allow herself a lot of time to dwell on the subject before knocking. Once bidden to enter, she found a waiting pile of blankets and pillows, along with her siblings and copious amounts of junk food. The television and DVD player had been carted up from the living room and were set up on the floor as well.

Buttercup hadn't been in on any of the preparations. After returning home, she'd been told when and where to be, but spent the rest of her day undisturbed.

She had steeled herself for an evening of girlish nonsense and dreaded the threat of conversations she'd rather not have and wouldn't soon forget. At least, that's what she expected out of "normal" girls her age.

Buttercup sat gingerly on the corner of the blanket nearest the door, leaving a few feet between her and her siblings. The blanket was laid out beside the bed, so she rested her back against the mattress, facing the empty television screen.

"'Kay," Bubbles said to Buttercup, dropping to her knees beside her, "Ready to watch a movie?"

Buttercup shrugged weakly. With energy that defied Buttercup's apathy, Bubbles nodded and flopped onto her side, stretching out her hand towards a pile of movies near the blanket. When she rose to prepare the entertainment, Blossom poured a bag of chips into a large bowl and set it in the middle of the patch. Bubbles returned to sit roughly halfway between her sisters.

When the title menu came up, Buttercup raised her eyebrows a little and shot Bubbles a look that asked both "Are you serious?" and "In any case, what were you thinking?"

"What?" she asked shyly, glad that manipulating the remote gave her an excuse to look away.

"Konah Kids?" Buttercup asked. "We haven't watched that since we were little."

"I know," Bubbles said. "I thought we'd watch it for old time's sake."

Buttercup gave an encore performance of her previous expression and settled in to watch the movie, trying to recall the general plot.

It wasn't very long before all three of them realized the memory was better than the reality, though it took a few minutes for anyone to voice it, and a few more minutes of awkward, cautious conversation for everyone to agree without hurting anyone's feelings.

Even so, no one stopped the movie.

"Sometimes I've rewatched more grown up movies that I'd remembered seeing when I was younger," Blossom said. "I usually understand a lot of things that I missed the first time around. Sometimes I missed the real plot completely, but other times it was just small stuff. I didn't realize they were there at all when I was younger. It's like, because you don't understand something, you don't see it even when it's right in front of you. But even if you gain the ability to understand, you still don't see it until you look back. Sometimes I even wonder if we'll run across stuff like that from our own lives someday."

"Like what?" Buttercup asked, having understood the idea until it left the realm of fiction.

"You know, something that happened to us, or happened around us. Maybe we misunderstood what someone was doing. Or maybe we understood the details of what they were doing without seeing the big picture."

"Oh," she said. She struggled to think of such an example but failed.

"I mean, you can miss the point completely. Like a movie about some boy's childhood where he seems all happy and you might think his life is awesome and different, but later you might realize he lived in poverty and actually missed out on a lot of important stuff."

"But if he really was happy then who cares whether he could have had more?" Buttercup responded. "Does it even matter if other people think your life is bad when you enjoy it?"

"I wonder," Bubbles started. After a thoughtful pause, she continued. "Sometimes I see dogs tied up in a yard or fish in little bowls or cats who live their entire lives inside one house. Sometimes I feel bad for them, but when I talk to them, they seem pretty happy. Like they don't know or don't care that there's a whole huge world out there they're missing."

"But a fish isn't going to take a holiday in France in any case," Blossom countered. "They couldn't see this 'huge world' even if they were free."

"Besides," Buttercup added, "there are plenty of people who spend their whole lives in one city. Except maybe to visit a relative once in a while or something." Her lip twitched in a smile as a thought came to her. "Like a trip to the vet."

"Yeah, I know," Bubbles said, missing or ignoring the intended humor. "And I wonder if the only reason I feel bad for those animals not having more is because I _do_ have more."

"That's a good point," Blossom said. "I'd bet someone who travels the world all the time feels bad for people who never leave their home town."

"Well I _do_ and I _don't_," Buttercup countered. "If they're happy, that's good enough."

Bubbles asked Blossom, "Do you think those aliens felt bad for us never leaving our planet before?"

Before Blossom could respond, however, Buttercup rose and said, "Enough with it already! If no one else is going to change the stupid movie, then I will."

While she was up, Blossom said, "Maybe Buttercup had a point earlier. Think about it like this: gaining makes you happy, losing makes you unhappy, but maybe having or not having doesn't mean anything. We feel bad for people with smaller lives because it's like... Like we're thinking about what it would be like for us to lose that part of our lives, you know?"

"You mean like you don't know how much you loved something until it's gone?" Bubbles asked tentatively.

Blossom shrugged as Buttercup returned to the blanket. "Sort of. I saw this documentary about homeless people living underground somewhere. Maybe in subway tunnels or something. I thought their lives were so bad, but they seemed so happy. I bet they felt bad when they lost everything, but when they got over the loss everything seemed normal to them, I guess. If one of them suddenly got a good job, a nice apartment, and stuff like that, they'd probably be happier for a while. But then that would level off, too. Sort of like feeling hot and cold isn't really feeling the temperature, but feeling heat enter or leave your body."

"All I know," Buttercup said as she worked the remote, "is that I'm happy, and that's good enough for me."

"What's that, Buttercup?" Bubbles teased, her face tightening and growing red with suppressed mirth. "You have to pee?"

Buttercup narrowed her eyes in a look of pure hatred, silently daring her sister to keep it up. Behind her, even Blossom was trying to hide a smile behind her hand. A few chortles slipped out of Bubbles, prompting the same from Blossom.

Soon Buttercup was fighting off a smile of her own. She grabbed a nearby pillow and swatted Bubbles upside the head for her callousness. It was the start of a pillow fight that made Buttercup forget her initial apprehension over the evening.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

[Broken Notes Vol1: Desolation

Buttercup rolled to her side and squinted at Bubbles's alarm in the dark of the night; it was 2:13. She was having difficulty getting to sleep, though her sisters were breathing heavily in their slumber. Comfort was an issue, to be sure, but there was something on her mind that she just couldn't shake.

Buttercup slid slowly and quietly out from under Bubbles's bed covers. Blossom slept alone on the blanket on the floor, where Buttercup had tossed and turned for what felt like hours before sneaking into the bed. Now she felt extraordinarily warm, and while the cool air of the room felt good, she intended to do more than cool off.

Still in her nightgown, she flew out the window through which she had passed many, many other times while she had shared this room with her sisters.

The cool breeze was refreshing, though she still felt sweat beading on her forehead. She wondered if it was fear, but that seemed too unlike her. When she came to a stop outside the doors to the elementary school, she convinced herself that had nothing to do with anything.

Before entering, she broke the latch and deadbolt of the door with a brief shot of pinpoint-accurate heat vision.

Despite efforts to put herself at ease, she jumped when the door again slammed shut behind her and echoed through the empty hallway. With classrooms to either side, the hallway was completely bereft of exterior windows. However, the moon was bright, and some of its light made it all the way through the panes on the classroom doors. Buttercup was able to see well enough to begin walking.

Her footsteps echoed through the desolate hall again, seeming louder in the dead of light, without even the hum of the lights. The hanging cutouts swung ever so gently in the breeze her entrance had created. Despite focusing her hearing, she heard nothing, even when she was right beside the girls' bathroom door.

She hesitated before pushing through the door. There were windows in this room, but the moon shone brightest on the other side of the building. Still, it was no worse than the hall. Enough to make out the row of sinks and their not-quite-gleaming faucets, and the stall doors opposite.

The first was again closed.

Buttercup narrowed her eyes slightly and looked inside. It was empty. Returning to normal vision, she slowly took in and let out a deep breath before walking over to the door, pounding it lightly with the butt of her fist. It swung open, creaked when it reached its limit, and swung closed again instead of remaining open.

Buttercup smiled, believing this explained enough to satisfy her. Thoughts of strange sounds had fled her mind for the moment.

She realized she had to use the restroom again, though not as badly as in her last visit. It would have been easy enough to return home instead, but she decided she might as well conquer this completely. Passing the first, she again entered the second stall and closed the door behind her. Using a dispersed, low-powered version of her heat vision, she briefly bathed the area with red light to confirm that the toilet was still sanitary.

This time she had no difficulty starting, but she stopped when she heard a flow that couldn't have been hers. Shedding red light from her eyes again, she looked to the floor and pulled her feet up just in time to save them from a fast-spreading pool of thick, dark liquid that came from the third stall, which she had clogged.

She could even smell it, and it stank of something old and rotten. Of blood. Little tendrils rose from the muck an inch or so, reaching up like sprigs from recently-planted seeds.

Buttercup heard a grunt from her left. Immediately she tried to look through the stall wall, but she simply grew dizzy from the attempted mixing of eye powers. That wall shook slightly as the door of the first stall slammed open. Looking at the gap below the wall, she caught a glimpse of a bare foot before it moved from view.

Buttercup pulled her feet closer, crouching on the toilet seat and ready to pounce--out through the ceiling of necessary. She kept her light steady, ready to turn up the power and scorch as well.

Wet sounds, those of plopping and sucking, indicated her neighbor was walking through the mud-like congealed blood. Even as she walked she groaned in pain, but there were no sobs this time. The moans sounded deeper, louder than before. They sounded almost like heaves.

She recoiled when the girl opened her door. She was doubled over with a clear expression of anguish, one hand holding her stomach as the other held open the door. Her long, dark hair hung in greasy tendrils. A dark stain covered her chin and parts of her face were equally smeared. Her eyes were milky white but her lids were swollen, red, and wet from tears.

Again she heaved, and what looked and smelled like watery human waste trickled down her chin and splattered on the bloody floor. Her face became pleading, and the hand on the door reached out desperately for Buttercup, who cried out and recoiled further as the girl's body tensed again.

Buttercup sat up in Bubbles's bed, taking in a quivering, gasping breath as she did so. She clutched the covers tightly in her hands for several seconds before she relaxed her fingers slightly and exhaled.

Her sisters still slept. It was now almost three in the morning.

Buttercup, panting from a combination of recent fear and heat, decided to return to the comfort of her own bed. It wasn't until she turned on her lamp that she was able to return to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

[Silent Hill 4: E-Tangin

Monday came shortly, and Buttercup had no choice but to return to school. A few students snickered when she entered, but she responded with a glare that promised a very painful reprisal. Between her response and the teacher's lecture there was little room for any further embarrassment.

A little after lunch, Buttercup began to feel exceptionally tired. Recess had been canceled due to rain. Perhaps that was a factor?

Before long she struggled to keep her eyes open as something like a pulsating pressure in her head kept pushing her deeper towards sleep. Despite fears of rebuke from Mrs. Jones, it was inevitable that she slip under.

After some period she could not measure, she began to stir, and even then it was difficult to peel her eyes open and lift her head.

She yawned and wiped her suddenly watery eyes, but as she looked around the classroom she came to realize she was alone. The other desks had been vacated and the teacher was nowhere in sight. Buttercup couldn't remember where the lecture had left off before she dozed. Some grammar review or the like. All that was on the board now was the sentence "Who are you?"

The dim light streaming in from the windows was an odd mixture of golden and gray as the sun peeked through thin spots of the rain-laden clouds high above, though it was no longer raining. The overhead lights were off, but the switch on the wall was on.

The clock at the front of the room indicated it was just a little after two o'clock, still within school hours. Buttercup rose and walked around, noting the room seemed hazy as if there were a fine dust hanging in the air. She strained her ears but heard only an enveloping silence.

She peered through the walls into the other classrooms, noting them to be empty as well. As she stepped into the empty hallway she looked further, noting the empty playground in one direction. In the other was the parking lot, which seemed almost vacant with just four vehicles parked there.

Taking another super-powered glance at the other rooms along the way, Buttercup jogged to the exit and stepped outside. Taking flight, she surveyed the city, which seemed intact and otherwise unmolested, though wholly unlit in this afternoon that felt more like twilight.

She tuned her hearing in to the cityscape as she held still high in the air, but heard nothing. She strained and focused, but still nothing. Not a car, a voice, a bird, or so much as a termite in a wall. Not a single television left on or a faucet left running.

In a streak of green she flew to the heart of the city and listened again. Greeted with continued silence, she looked into the nearby skyscrapers to see only empty rooms, and to the streets to see only a sparse scattering of empty cars, almost all of which were parked at the curb.

"Hey!" she called. Her own echo was the only response. "Hello? Is anybody out there?"

Growing concerned, she considered trying to see what was going on in the rest of the world, but first felt compelled to return home. She scanned the house as she approached and found it as vacant and dim as the rest of the city.

There was one feature of her home that she was strangely unable to peer through: a large supply cabinet in her father's lab. She regarded the oddity only briefly, being distracted by what sounded like a distant rush of air behind her.

Just as she turned around, Bubbles appeared beside her and grabbed her hand. "Buttercup, come quick and help!" Still gripping Buttercup's hand tightly, Bubbles sped off towards the other end of the city. Buttercup trailed behind for the duration of the short flight, which ended at a home in a different suburb. There was an ominously silent red and black portal of some sort swirling in the air just above the lawn.

Bubbles stopped by the portal and addressed her sister. "What were you doing at our house? You were supposed to come straight here!"

"I was?" Buttercup asked warily.

"Don't you remember? The Gangreen Gang got into Sandman's place. Blossom and I managed to wake you up so you could help."

Buttercup was skeptical at this. "Help? With the Gangreen Gang?"

"Just hurry; Blossom's alone in there!" Bubbles said before disappearing through the portal. After a moment of hesitation, Buttercup followed.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

[Broken Notes Vol1: Screaming Flux

It took a few moments for Buttercup's eyes to adjust to the near-darkness. She heard splashing below, where Bubbles helped Blossom to disentangle herself from tentacles protruding from the water. Surrounding them was vast, empty darkness, though some unseen source of illumination provided a low light that was enough to see clearly.

Her sisters flew up a few dozen feet to hover beside her. Buttercup noticed sores on Blossom's arm left by the suckers of the tentacle. Whatever they were facing right now was able to hurt them.

"Buttercup doesn't remember," Bubbles said matter-of-factly.

"Just stay sharp," Blossom said with her usual authority. "The Gangreen Gang--"

But she was cut short. Even the inky water below disappeared, leaving them in a wholly-black void as a voice spoke out, emanating from no particular direction. "Well, boys, what's this? Someone's come back to play." She recognized the overconfident, sneering tone as belonging to Ace.

"Ssshee doessssn't remember," hissed Snake.

Billy guffawed, adding, "I wanna see it again! I wanna see it again!"

Ace chuckled, "I'd say that deserves an encore."

Buttercup felt Blossom's hand grip her shoulder firmly. "Be strong, Buttercup. They can't keep this up forever. Just wait for an opening."

Buttercup nodded and put on a tough face as the scene of their living room shimmered into view. This depiction of their house was empty, devoid of furniture and decorations, looking as though everyone had moved out. Buttercup saw herself sitting in the middle of the floor in her nightgown, legs crossed. She held her blankie, which she hadn't seen in years, in a deathly tight hug, one hand raised so she might suck her thumb. She was crying, rocking gently back and forth.

Buttercup saw her other self shake her head in denial of some unheard question, pulling her thumb free and gripping the blanket tighter. She choked, "I don't wanna fight anymore. I don't wanna fight! I'm just a baby. Leave me alone!"

Blossom squeezed her shoulder again to remind Buttercup of her presence.

Still unseen, Billy tittered, practically singing, "Just a baby, just a baby!"

Buttercup scowled, feeling anger but not embarrassment at a sight so foreign she failed to associate it with herself. Surely this was just a poor joke. She shouted into the barren room, "This ain't no dream of mine!" She strode over to her false self and lashed out, bending downward as she landed a punch on "her" cheek with all the force she could muster.

The sniveling girl-child rolled across the floor several times, lengthening as she went, the green of her nightgown spreading. When the motion stopped, it was now Snake who lay on the floor. He was still, and his neck bent strangely.

Almost immediately the scene faded into inky blackness, and Snake with it.

"Okay, girls, just two more," Blossom said. "Good work, Buttercup."

"You're gonna regret that, snot-for-brains!" Ace said.

When Buttercup next blinked her eyes, she beheld the image of downtown Townsville streets. Almost before the fact had registered, she was trapped in the crushing grasp of hands bigger than she was. She cried out in pain as her body compressed, barely registering Bubbles's scream to her left. She strained hard against the impossible force of the hand but made little headway.

Forcing her eyes open through the pain, beneath her chin she saw a green, pudgy digit which, despite its larger-than-normal size, could only have been Billy's. On the streets below Blossom crouched, preparing to attack.

Before Blossom took off, her eyes and mouth widened as something plunged into her abdomen. It looked rough, like a lizard's tail, except almost as wide as she was. Blossom looked on in a mixture of horror and uncertainty at the unfamiliar sensation, watching the foreign thing slowly and unceasingly plow deeper. Though it must surely have gone deep enough to pass through her body, it did not emerge from the other side.

Buttercup caught a glimpse of Ace, who, unlike Billy, was of his normal stature. The strange appendage seemed to be protruding from his chest.

Buttercup strained harder against the hand she should have been able to burst from. Blossom began to panic now, making small gasps and squeaking sounds in quick succession as she tried to grab and push away the thing, but it just slid through her grasp like it was too slick to hold.

"Hee, hee," Billy chuckled, giving Buttercup another agonizing squeeze. "I'm gonna go play with my baby dollies." He turned to the side and began walking away, his steps thundering.

Buttercup craned her neck painfully to keep Blossom in view, watching helplessly as the distance between them grew. Blossom, now slightly bent over, breathed only in interspersed, squeaking gasps as she pressed firmly on the intruding appendage from either side, still not slowing its progress.

"Gonna put baby green in a diaper," Billy bellowed as he walked. "Ooh! I'm gonna pop off their heads and switch 'em around!"

Buttercup was distracted from Blossom's plight by Bubbles's scream. She looked to her left to see Billy's thumb pressing on her sister's neck, pushing it against one of his knuckles.

Buttercup felt a primal, frightening rage begin to overtake her. The world seemed to quake, blurring in her eyes. Conscious thought fled as she screamed in fury. She felt a sort of pleasurable relief as she poured that fury into her eye beams, sizzling the flesh of the hand that held her. This even as she struggled anew against its grasp, trying as hard to tear into its flesh as to push it away.

The whole of her being seemed supplanted by violent wrath . Sound and feeling were muffled and distant. Only fleeting sensations came to her through the haze. Grabbing. Pulling. Biting something that was both soft and unyielding. Screaming. Snapping. Warm, red liquid flowing onto her face, dripping almost ticklishly beneath her shirt collar. At some point the world disappeared.

Some time later, she opened her eyes to the sun peeking through the heavy clouds and her ears to the chirping of a nearby bird. She felt cool, damp grass on the back of her neck and arms. Hearing movement to her side, she turned to see her sisters slowly coming to as well. They were lying on the lawn where the swirling portal had once rested.

Buttercup sat up and looked at her hands, flexing her fingers, clenching and unclenching. They felt a little sore, but otherwise fine. She turned her hands over, then again, noting them to be clean. She looked at Blossom, who was standing and brushing herself off. The welts on her arm were gone. Her shirt was torn open, but her stomach was clean and unmarred.

Buttercup opened her ears further, hearing people talking, cars running, televisions blaring, water flowing, and electricity humming.

"What happened?" she asked, still sitting and marveling at her hands.

"You and everyone else in class, even the teacher, started falling asleep," Blossom said. "Bubbles and I managed to keep each other awake. We were going to wake you up, but then everyone turned to smoke and disappeared. We spotted that portal from in the air and went in. I think we should go and tell Professor everything, but that's the gist of it."

Buttercup nodded and hovered up onto her feet. "Are you two okay?"

Blossom exchanged a glance with Bubbles, who shrugged at her, before saying, "Yeah, I guess. And you?"

Buttercup nodded as she took a step to stand beside Blossom. She spread her hand open, palm flat, gently caressing Blossom's exposed abdomen. It felt cool in the open air, its smoothness confirming to her hand what her eyes had told her.

Blossom laid her hand over Buttercup's and held it still. When she looked up, Blossom asked, "Buttercup, what is it?"

"You're not hurt?" Buttercup asked in turn.

"No," Blossom said, pulling Buttercup's hand away and grasping it tightly. "I guess it was all just a dream."

"Blossom..." Buttercup began, still in a daze. "What did I do?"

Blossom opened her mouth but did not speak. Uncertain what to say, she closed her mouth and grew thoughtful.

Meanwhile, Bubbles answered, her smile seemingly genuine. "Don't worry, Buttercup. It was just a dream. The Gangreen Gang must be fine, too."

"But--" Buttercup spat, though she was quickly interrupted by Blossom.

"Shh," she said, giving Buttercup's hand a gentle squeeze and smiling weakly. "It's okay. Let's just go home and fill dad in, all right?"

Buttercup considered this for a moment before conceding with a nod and a strained smile of her own. They returned home in a flash of light, quickly sharing the details of their latest encounter, though Buttercup felt almost as much an outsider to the ordeal as Professor must have.

In the days that followed, no one saw (and the girls were unable to locate) the Gangreen Gang. Fortunately, even Grubber and Li'l Arturo, whom Buttercup had not battled, were missing. That, at least, was some slight comfort.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

[Silent Hill 2 (unreleased track): Blood Pulse

A few nights later, Buttercup found herself unable to sleep. She again felt unreasonably hot under her covers but tried to ignore this and tough it out. Until, that is, she dared to open her eyes saw it was already past midnight.

She kicked off her covers and realized how much she had been sweating when the cool air hit. Her gown clung to her uncomfortably and her bed, while no longer too hot to bear, was uncomfortably damp.

The mere thought of the moisture shed sparked her thirst. Glad to leave the bed anyway, she crept to the bathroom down the hall. A perfectly safe, private, reasonably clean, and perfectly sane bathroom. To avoid disturbing anyone, she closed the door behind her after flipping on the lights.

She filled a small disposable cup at the sink, staring at her reflection as she drank. While flushed, she didn't look ill. She stuck out her tongue and tried in vain to look at the back of her throat. Touching her hand to her forehead only confirmed that she felt hot.

Taking a thermometer from the medicine cabinet, she put it under her tongue and fanned herself with her nightgown. This quickly made the stickiness of her sweat more apparent. Perhaps a shower would even cool her off. Her eyes were so painfully dry from her sleepiness it was an effort to keep them open, but idea was still tempting.

She pulled the thermometer out briefly. It was a healthy ninety-eight so far; she'd give it some more time and see if it went up further.

Deciding a cool shower sounded pretty good whether or not she was actually sick, she undressed and pulled out a fresh towel from the cabinet. While she waited on the thermometer she took a moment to examine herself in the mirror, turning sideways and leaning back. Her chest was as flat as it had ever been, and she secretly hoped it stayed that way. With her active lifestyle, she felt anything else would just be a pointless annoyance to her.

She finally checked the thermometer again, now just shy of ninety-nine. Doubting it would change further, and already feeling cooler out of her gown, she considered that good enough and cleaned the thermometer before returning it.

The water felt good on her skin as she wiped off the sweaty residue. In fact, it was pleasant enough she decided to wash thoroughly for a change. She even hovered briefly to lather between her toes.

As she washed, she felt a relatively new but increasingly familiar feeling grow within her. Too tired to pay it much heed, she ignored it long enough to finish cleaning. Before she shut the water off, however, she wondered if there might be one other way to relieve some of her stress.

Smiling mischievously, she gazed through the walls to confirm the rest of the family was still asleep. Her fingertips brushed her neck, trailing down from there. She paused at her navel to scoop out lint she'd neglected earlier. Why someone who'd never been in a womb even had a belly button, she'd yet to learn.

Her finger returned for a second pass to ensure it was clean. Buttercup looked on with some confusion as she somehow pushed her finger deeper into her navel. She felt her abdominal muscles tense, but there was no pain as her finger slid completely in.

She tilted her head to the side inquisitively when she removed the digit. Half her finger was covered in blood, but she still felt no pain.

Turning around so the water splashed on her back instead of obstructing her view, she looked more closely and saw a small trickle of blood. Pinching the thin layer of skin around the navel, she confirmed she was still capable of feeling pain in that region.

Curiosity was evident on her face as she brought her other hand to her belly. Palms against her stomach, she pushed both her thumbs inside and pulled gently. She felt a slight tearing sensation, which she likened to ripping a wet paper bag, but still no pain. The hole was wide enough to put in two fingers, and she scraped around inside.

When she felt something move, her inquisitive regard became an unblinking stare. Scooping until she could grab it between those two fingers and her thumb, she pulled out a slimy piece of red flesh a bit larger than her thumb. It was triangular in shape and wriggled back and forth in her hand like a fish.

She lost her grip on the slimy thing and it fell to the shower floor. There it continued to flop about, sometimes hopping several inches high.

Knowing something was wrong but not able to pinpoint it, unable to stop her explorations, she put all five digits of her right hand into her navel like a spear and spread them, widening the hole further. Pushing her hand inside herself, she found another of the flapping pieces of flesh and pulled it out for a closer look. Two others slipped out when she pulled her hand free, joining the first in a flopping match on the floor.

Holding it close to her face, she noticed it was completely featureless on either side before a powerful undulation sent it flying from her hand to plop wetly on the tub floor.

This time she used all four fingers from each hand to widen the hole, and several more triangles of flesh flopped out. She held her hands out quickly and managed to catch a few before they all fell to the floor, but after a pause even more started coming out.

Her belly started to distend as dozens and dozens of the flesh fish fell out. Her breath caught when she saw a small hand grab the edge of the hole, then another.

Buttercup started making little high pitched sounds and shaking her head in denial. The little fists, each too small even to wrap around her little finger, tightened and pulled. She watched helplessly, horror-struck as the tiny head of a premature baby emerged and began crying out with an unnaturally loud screech.

She screamed in reply and backed up as if trying to retreat from her own stomach. The flesh fish squished beneath her toes as she backpedaled, and she felt herself slipping.

Supporting herself with the shower bar, she looked down to see a normal belly and a clean shower floor, devoid of both blood and flesh. Once again she confirmed with a touch what her eyes were telling her. She'd never fallen asleep on her feet before, but if she was ever tired enough to do so it was now.

Deciding she'd had enough self-exploration for tonight, she shut off the water. Once dried, she wrapped the towel around herself and returned to her bedroom for a fresh nightgown and undergarments. Suspecting the bed to be as sweaty and gross as her old gown, and not even certain she wanted to sleep after that nightmare, she carried a quilt from the hallway closet to the living room couch. After a little channel surfing she found some old cartoons and wrapped herself up in the quilt, watching television until a more peaceful sleep finally descended.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

[Silent Hill 4: The Suicidal Clock Chime

The following day, when questioned about sleeping on the couch, Buttercup told her family she'd been too hot in her room last night. At school, the rest of the morning seemed like it would pass without incident, though the bright, clear day waiting outside kept Buttercup's attention focused more on the windows than the day's lecture.

She was not disappointed in the least when an earth-shaking explosion preceded the ringing of the hotline. As usual, Blossom answered. Buttercup eavesdropped.

"Yes, Mayor?"

"Powerpuff Girls! It's horrible! Mojo Jojo is raiding the steel mill!"

"We're on it, Mayor. C'mon girls!"

Almost word-for-word their typical dialog. By now Buttercup was glad she wasn't tasked with answering the hotline. The tedium would have grown beyond her tolerance long ago.

Bursting from the room in a flash of light, feeling the rush of air as she speared through the open skies, the tingling in her muscles at the thought of the coming conflict--these, she believed, would never bore her.

They arrived to see Mojo standing atop a smokestack. One of his Robo Jojos was latched tightly to the side, but the cockpit was open and the machine itself seemed inactive. Mojo appeared to have left it intentionally.

The girls arrived facing his back as he looked straight ahead, seemingly enjoying the industrial landscape before him. His back was to the outside edge of the tower, the gaping hole of the smokestack in front of him. The air was very still. Mojo's cape hung from his shoulders, motionless.

"All right, Mojo," Blossom began. "What are you up to this time? Shopping for your next project?"

Several seconds passed before Mojo's reply. In his silence a distant train whistle blew. He continued to look away as he spoke. "And what are you girls up to? Saving the city? Saving the profits of this mill and the jobs of those it employs? What have you ever done of consequence, other than to maintain the status quo of inevitable loss and destruction faced by each of us? I wonder, have you ever truly 'saved' anyone?

"More to the point," he continued, pausing to finally face his adversaries, his expression one of utmost calm. "Can you save me?"

The girls continued to wait patiently, albeit with a degree of confusion, until Mojo finished his latest and rather unusual monolog. They tensed when he raised his arms horizontally to either side, though they saw no weapons. Next their mouths dropped and Bubbles actually gasped when Mojo hopped off off the smokestack, plummeting to the ground below them without so much as a scream.

Buttercup saw Blossom prepare to dive, but grabbed her sister's shoulder before she went to Mojo's aid. "No, wait! It's a trap! It has to be!"

Blossom considered her words for a moment, but it turned out to be a moment too long. A small squeak slipped from Bubbles's lips at about the same time Mojo hit the ground. Without hesitation, she zipped to the ground in a flash of blue. After exchanging a glance, her sisters promptly joined her.

Bubbles stared at the sight with wide, unblinking eyes while she covered her mouth with both hands. Blossom was stoic, on the surface seeming completely detached as she took in the scene. Buttercup, however, showed her surprise clearly.

Mojo was splayed face-down, but the force of the impact had splattered blood around him and crushed his head and helmet. Now flopped to one side, his cape was eerily still again.

Buttercup listened eagerly for a heartbeat, breathing, or any sign that he had survived. She found none.

Buttercup was startled by Blossom's voice, confident and casual. Her sister drew nearer as she spoke and put her hand gently on her shoulder. "It's all right, Buttercup. You made the right call."

"But... But it _wasn't_ a trick," Buttercup responded softly, sparing Blossom only the briefest of glances as she did so.

"There were at least a dozen ways he could have survived jumping if that's what he really wanted," Blossom replied smoothly, removing her hand from Buttercup's stiff shoulder. "We can't save everyone. Especially not when they don't really want to be saved."

Bubbles interjected, voicing the questions already on Buttercup's mind. "But how do we know he didn't want to be saved? How do we know he didn't really want our help?"

Regarding Mojo's body for a moment, Blossom offered, "Maybe he thought he did, once. In the end he gave up. You can't assume someone else will save you when you don't try to save yourself."

"What if he couldn't?" Buttercup muttered to herself, but Blossom heard and responded.

"Then maybe we could have saved him, if he hadn't given up hope."

"But that's--" Buttercup began, but was distracted by motion out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze shot back to Mojo's body, where she saw what looked like a reddish-orange earthworm crawling through his blood. More movement drew her eyes to another, and she quickly realized they were appearing all over, seemingly crawling up out of the blood itself and wriggling towards Mojo's body.

"Do you see that?" Buttercup asked, not daring to look at her sisters for fear the worms would vanish.

"See what?" Blossom asked cautiously.

Buttercup decided to look up anyway. Her sisters' expressions made it clear they had seen nothing unusual.

When she looked back, the worms were still there. Some had reached his body and begun to burrow in. "Nevermind," Buttercup said. "Shouldn't we call an ambulance or something?"

"I guess we should let someone know," Blossom said softly.

"Why would Mojo do this?" Bubbles asked in a high-pitched tone. She seemed near to tears.

Blossom went to her sister's side and wrapped her arms around her, giving a comforting hug and at the same time turning her away from Mojo. "It's okay, Bubbles," Blossom assured, stroking the back of her sister's head. "There are some problems we just can't fix." She pulled away to see Bubbles face-to-face and asked, "How about we go back to school? Does that sound good?"

After a moment Bubbles nodded. Buttercup, who had alternated her gaze between her siblings and the devouring worms, now gladly turned her attention fully to Blossom. "School? Don't you think after something like this we should go home? Or at least talk to dad? I mean, look at Bubbles!"

Bubbles turned around and her eyes met Buttercup's only briefly before she turned her head to the side and looked meekly at the ground. The ground well away from Mojo's landing site.

"School is where we belong right now," Blossom said, remaining firm in her uncharacteristic insensitivity. "Besides, Bubbles is okay with it, right?"

Bubbles nodded wordlessly, her lips closed so tightly they almost puckered.

"See? Now lets get going. I hear sirens coming. They can take care of this."

"What if we get in trouble?" Buttercup asked, scanning the area for witnesses.

"_Now_, Buttercup," Blossom ordered, taking flight. Bubbles followed.

After another look at the worms, which at this point almost covered Mojo's body, Buttercup took off as well, wondering if there was something seriously wrong with her. With everyone.


	13. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

[Broken Notes Vol1: Search for Cheryl

"Girls, how are you?" Professor asked as soon as they returned from school, rising from his recliner as they entered.

"Oh, dad," Bubbles squeaked miserably while she flew into Professor's arms. "Something bad happened to Mojo."

"I know, sweetie, I know."

"So is it for real?" Buttercup asked. "No tricks?"

"As far as anyone can tell," he replied. He set Bubbles down and said, "Sit down, girls." He did so himself, reclaiming the recliner and motioning to the couch. Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup did as he asked, Bubbles sitting closest to him and Buttercup farthest.

"How are you girls handling this?"

Bubbles sniffed, saying, "We didn't save him."

"I see. Someone said they saw him jump off the smokestack. Is this true?"

"Yes, Professor," Blossom said in a business-like tone. Buttercup looked past her to see Bubbles squint her eyes shut hard and nod, squeezing out a tear.

"He didn't have to die, right?" Bubbles asked.

"I don't know, girls. What do you think?"

Blossom answered before anyone else could even open their mouth. "We were suspicious. He could have been appealing to our generous nature so he could spring a trap on us."

Buttercup let her gaze drift to the carpet, where it remained for the rest of the conversation. "That's what I thought. I was wrong."

"That's all right, Buttercup," Professor said plainly. "It certainly was the safest decision."

"But why did he do it?" Bubbles asked. "And shouldn't we have tried anyway?"

"Well," Professor began, pausing for a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not sure anyone can say why he chose to end his life. But from time to time there are people who, for various reasons, choose to stop living. To them, something about their life is too big a burden to bear any longer."

Buttercup scoffed. "Well, I think they're stupid for givin' up so easy."

"But Mojo was all alone," Bubbles retorted, momentarily gaining a good measure of composure. "He didn't have anyone to help him. Not even..." She waited to regain her momentum. "He came to us and told us to save him if we could, and we didn't."

"True, but..." Professor paused again. "You see, Bubbles, catching him wouldn't have made him better. Sometimes a person's will to survive is as important as anything others can do for them. You can't really 'save' someone that doesn't wish to be 'saved.'

"You girls bring hope to many people in this city. You help and protect others so they have a chance to make their lives brighter and better. Between those two things, you've no doubt saved many more lives than you realize. Yet you only give them a chance to live, a chance to be happy. What they do with those chances is not up to you. Mojo included."

The girls sat in silence for several seconds before Professor Utonium continued. "Now, I know you girls must all be upset by this, and that's perfectly understandable. But I don't want to see any of you blaming yourselves or each other."

Buttercup heard him stand. "For now, I'm going to throw in a roast. If anyone wants to talk, I'll be right here, okay? I want you girls to take it easy tonight. Sound good?"

Buttercup nodded and finally tore her eyes from the floor to watch Professor's departure. However, her attention quickly focused on Blossom.

Blossom was looking at her. Buttercup jumped slightly at the sight and gasped. However, neither that, nor the goosebumps spreading across her arm, nor her heart's forceful and rapid pounding were caused by Blossom's mere regard.

Blossom's head looked as though it had been carved open and emptied. A perfectly flat cut ran along her forehead before curving down either side, so that even Blossom's ears were missing. Through the holes where Blossom's eyes should have been, Buttercup saw Bubbles and the room beyond.

"I think I'm going to wait in my room," Bubbles said. As with the worms earlier, Bubbles didn't react to what Buttercup was seeing.

"All right," Blossom responded. When she opened her mouth Buttercup saw through it as well, her view unobstructed even by a tongue. Blossom turned her head the other way, to face Bubbles.

Buttercup knew Blossom then said some small, insignificant thing, but she didn't know what. She had caught only a glimpse of red, slimy tissue before turning away. Not enough to even recall a complete image, though her imagination was apt to fill in the details she had missed. But even that glimpse had made her feel sick.

Her sisters rose and began walking away. Buttercup stared at the armrest of the couch, careful to not look up.

"Coming?" Bubbles asked.

Keeping Blossom out of her field of vision, Buttercup replied, "In a minute, maybe. It's just...nice and cool down here right now."

Bubbles giggled meekly, "I guess. You were wrapped up pretty tight on the couch last night."

Buttercup pressed her hand against her chest, waiting for her heart to calm itself. She knew something was wrong, but what would they think if she told them? She reflected on recent days and recalled hallucinations, fever, and nightmares.

Was she ill?

Was she going insane?

She rose from the couch and sought out her father in the kitchen.

"Hey...dad?" Buttercup asked tentatively.

"Hmm?" he responded, looking over his shoulder.

"Do you think... Could you give me a checkup? A physical, I mean?"

He cocked an eyebrow briefly and glanced at the roast pan, which so far contained only a hunk of raw meat.

"You know," he said, "on second thought I think we'll have lasagna tonight." He wrapped the roast pan and put it in the fridge before pulling out a pre-made, frozen lasagna. Once that was in the oven, he motioned for Buttercup to follow him downstairs to the lab.

Buttercup stopped at the bottom of the stairs while Professor walked out of sight, rummaging through a storage closet.

While she waited, her eyes turned again to the nearby supply cabinet. She remembered being unable to see inside it the day the town had fallen asleep, but hadn't spared it another thought since. She tried again now and found herself equally at a loss as to its contents.

Glancing over her shoulder, she made sure Professor was still out of sight before approaching the cabinet. She put a hand on each of the handles and tried to turn them gently. Neither one budged.

As far as she knew, it would be a cinch to break the locks or rip off the doors, but she'd surely be caught. Besides, she was only mildly curious.

"All right," Professor said from the closet. Buttercup hopped away from the cabinet before he appeared again. "Have a seat," he finished, smiling.

Buttercup looked around, unsure of where to go. Professor set a metal tray on the counter and patted the empty spot beside it. Buttercup nodded and hopped up while Professor donned a pair of latex gloves.

"All right, sweetie, what seems to be ailing you today?"

"Umm..." Buttercup wasn't entirely certain how much she wanted to say. "Well, I felt really hot last night. I thought I had a fever for a bit."

"I see. Did you check your temperature?"

"No," she lied, wanting Professor to be thorough. He wasn't a doctor by any means, but he knew enough about basic medicine to help him with his real passions.

"All right, then." Professor placed a digital thermometer in her mouth and picked up a stethoscope from the tray. Buttercup glanced down and noticed the tray's contents. Her eyes widened at the sight of scalpels, clamps, and other surgical tools.

She forced herself to look straight ahead and ignore the implements. In doing so, she realized how quiet the lab was. In the still, cool air even the soft rustling of Professor's coat seemed amplified.

Professor put the stethoscope into his ears and gave Buttercup a warning glance before reaching up from the bottom of her shirt with the diaphragm. Buttercup soon reached a calm, submissive state, as sometimes happened during haircuts and the like. She tensed only briefly at the coldness of the instrument over her heart.

She breathed slowly and deeply while the thermometer counted and her father listened. Finished with her heart, he pulled the diaphragm out and reached around. He slid it under her shirt from the back in a sort of odd embrace. She leaned forward only slightly, with reluctance at the disturbance to her serenity.

"Breath in deeply. Now out. In again. Out once more. All right," he said, removing the stethoscope completely as the thermometer beeped. "Lungs sound free and clear," he concluded. Removing the thermometer, he added, "And a healthy ninety-eight point one."

"Are you sure there's nothing else you can check for?" Buttercup asked. "Maybe something in my..." Buttercup trailed off, uncertain she wanted to say "something in my head" and not aware of any less conspicuous phrasing.

Buttercup thought Professor's faced seemed a little flushed. "Why? Is there something...else...bothering you? You know, my medical expertise is limited, and as your father there's really only so much I'm comfortable--"

"Um, no, that's all right. I guess. Um... So you think I'm healthy?"

"As far as I can tell, honey. Are you sure there wasn't something else? Maybe something you wanted to talk about?" He leaned against the counter now, preparing for a long talk. "And just so we're clear, I don't believe your health would have influenced your decisions regarding Mojo today."

"No, that's all right. Thanks, though," Buttercup said in a rush as she hopped down and strode to the stairs.

"All right, honey. But if you change your mind just come see me!" Professor said as she left, shouting at the end as Buttercup was already at the top of the stairs.


	14. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

[Broken Notes from the Vault: Station

Buttercup awoke to hands grabbing her roughly. She felt something wet spray her face in a mist, almost making her sneeze. She reflexively tried to bring her hand to her nose, but their hands were strong.

Blinking her eyes clear, she turned her head frantically around. Two large men wearing white gowns over blue scrubs laid her down on some stiff, barely-cushioned surface. She could not identify them through their caps and face masks, assuming she even knew them. One of them held her down while the other pulled straps across, locking down her body and arms, then her legs.

She strained against the humble leather straps to no effect. What was that wet stuff just now? Antidote X?

"Hey!" She screamed, looking around. She was still in the living room of her own home, plucked from the couch she had once again chosen over her own bed. "Help! Somebody! Bubbles! Blossom! Professor!"

Her cries went on as her gurney was wheeled off. Even the two men didn't react. They pushed her in the direction of the Professor's lab. She lifted her head and saw that the wall was gone, replaced by a sloping ramp that curved out of view ahead of them. The walls were cement blocks, painted yellow, while the floor was smooth, undecorated concrete. Incandescent bulbs on the ceiling, bare and regularly-spaced, lit the way.

Buttercup panted and briefly strained against her bonds again. "Hey! Stop! Where are you taking me! Hello? Answer me!"

Seeing her shouting had no effect, Buttercup again quieted to watch their progression along the curving slope. They soon reached the end, where they walked onto a flat, straight hallway of tiled floor and porcelain-tiled walls. One of the men was now walking in front of her, making it difficult to discern the length of the passage.

The only light was that which spilled from the ramp behind them. Above she saw metal support beams laid across the walls, but no ceiling. Beyond that was inky blackness. The wall to her right ended at waist height, with a chain link fence covering the remaining distance to the "ceiling."

Buttercup heard a distant rumbling sound. It quickly grew louder. Almost impossibly loud. With its squeaking and squealing, she soon recognized it as a freight train. She saw the wall to her left light up as the train approached, the shadow of the fence cast upon and moving over it. She looked again to the right, but beyond the fence was still only darkness.

The train zoomed by with a burst of air and a deep rumble she felt even atop her conveyance. The two men didn't react to any of it.

Though it sounded like a freight train, it clearly carried passenger cars. They were zipping by too quickly for her to make out anything, but it seemed like faces were gathered at every window, looking out at her.

The man in front switched to the gurney's side just before it rammed through a pair of swinging doors. The sound of the train was much muffled by the doors when they closed again, and it soon faded entirely.

The cart banged through another pair of doors, and Buttercup heard an overwhelming cacophony of sound. Hysterical laughter, loud banging noises, screams, wails--and the smell was a sickening perfume of sweat, vomit, and something like vinegar or formaldehyde.

Buttercup continued to look about as they traveled. There were rooms to either side, the doors to which were more window on the upper half. The hallways seemed to have more occupants than the rooms, however.

Buttercup craned her neck to continue watching as they passed a wrinkled, white-haired man sitting on a bench, rocking back and forth as he gnawed on one of his fingers, blood dripping down his chin.

Through one window she saw a girl with long, brown hair sitting very still on her bed, knees up to her chest. Despite her calm, the walls around her were practically shredded. Both she and the old man in the hall wore flimsy, pale-white gowns. Buttercup was fairly certain they were patients of some sort.

The hallway seemed to twist and turn more than was strictly necessary, and Buttercup caught glimpses of other patients in various states. It was when they passed a pair in the hallway, a man and woman that appeared to be engaged rather vigorously in coitus, that Buttercup stopped looking, instead staring upward. It seemed there was a ceiling in this place again, with more light bulbs decorating the way.

The bare bulbs hurt her eyes, but she forced herself to stare only upward, trying to ignore the sources of the sounds around her. She felt a tear roll down her temple, and though it tickled mercilessly she could not bring her hand up to wipe or scratch.

No longer watching their progress, she was surprised by another jolt as they passed through a third set of doors. This room seemed much darker, until she was rolled under a lamp of the sort dentists and surgeons used.

She dared to raise her head, but a latex-gloved hand pushed it back down as another pair of gloved hands pulled a final leather strap over her forehead, holding her down fully. Attached to the strap was some sort of cuff, preventing her even from turning her head to the side.

However, she was able to move her eyes freely enough to see many individuals in masks and caps standing over her. Some seemed feminine, some masculine, but there were clearly more than the two that had brought her here.

"Who are you? Where am I? What are you going to do to me?" Buttercup asked in rapid succession.

To her surprise, a man answered. He seemed very casual in demeanor. "Oh, I wouldn't worry. There's just--" he paused, and something out of her view whirred to life briefly, "--a little something wrong with you. Nothing too serious."

"What? What's wrong with me?"

"Something in your brain. No need to worry."

"My brain?" Buttercup asked, panic beginning to show in her voice. One of the figures adjusted the light above her, and it became difficult to see. "What's wrong with my brain?"

"We'll know soon enough, I'm sure. But before we get started, you should really wake up."

"Wake up?" Buttercup asked, squinting, confused.

"Yes, wake up. You really need to wake up, now."

The unseen thing whirred to life again. Buttercup heard rather than saw its progress as its owner circled the cart, until it was near her head, and very loud. She screamed as she felt the circular blade slice easily through her skin before burning painfully against her skull. The man had to shout to be heard, now.

"Wake up, Buttercup! Wake up!"


	15. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

[Silent Hill 4: Resting Comfortably

"Wake up, Buttercup! Wake up!"

Buttercup opened her eyes and sat bolt upright. Bubbles was kneeling beside the couch.

"Buttercup, are you okay? You were having a bad dream."

Buttercup panted, feeling dazed and uneasy. She looked around the room to steady herself before focusing on Bubbles, who was already dressed for school and smiling cheerfully.

"It'll be time for school, soon. You wanna get dressed?"

Buttercup nodded silently, her mouth hanging open slightly.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Buttercup shook her head just as softly and in equal silence, her mouth still relaxed.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone if you want. But if you're going to keep sleeping down here, you should really bring your alarm clock, you know."

After Bubbles had left, Buttercup extracted herself from the quilt and floated up to her room. After dressing and making her way to the kitchen, she saw that Bubbles sat alone as she munched on her cereal, kicking her feet gently back and forth beneath her. She had once again placed a bowl for Buttercup. There was none for the absent Blossom, however.

Buttercup preferred not to think of her other sister and hoped that her vision yesterday afternoon had been a one time affair. When dinner had come, she was glad her claim to not be hungry and refusal to come down had not been contested.

Now, however, and with Blossom nowhere in sight, she decided to take her seat. Bubbles smiled at her as she did so but, her mouth full, said nothing.

Buttercup picked up her spoon at looked at the bowl in front of her, now realizing the extent of her hunger fully and almost lamenting skipping supper. Almost.

With near-reverence she dipped her spoon in, for reasons unknown feeling moved almost to tears at the sight. She felt a sudden and inexplicable impulse to hug Bubbles, but managed to come to her senses before that.

The cold mass had the slightest crunch left to it, and Buttercup enjoyed the feeling of it in her mouth and down her throat. Ravenous, she filled her mouth as quickly as she could empty it, soon picking up the bowl to drink the sweetened milk.

After putting the bowl down, she was embarrassed by her frantic eating when she saw Bubbles was smiling pleasantly at her again. "More?" she asked sweetly. Despite the question, she did not wait for a response before refilling the bowl, though Buttercup could have easily managed the task herself.

Buttercup did not immediately have the nerve to start on the second bowl. The idea of being served, or even assisted, was sometimes difficult to contend with. Covert breakfast serving was one thing, but...

"Thanks, Bubbles. I--" she began to say. Her cheeks felt flushed and she shifted in her chair a moment before continuing. "I really appreciate... Well, stuff like this. Maybe you're not the best in a fight a lot of times, but you always try and keep us happy the rest of the time. Even these little things... Especially right now."

"You mean with Mojo and all?"

Buttercup was so close to saying it already she wondered if she should just tell Bubbles of her plight. Maybe Bubbles could even stay close and keep her grounded if things got weird again.

Then again, Buttercup considered Mojo's worms and Blossom's empty head, and debated whether having another person around would make things better or worse than her solitary hallucinations and nightmares. There was probably no sense in worrying Bubbles anyway.

"Yeah," Buttercup responded. "With Mojo."

"I don't think it bothers me as much, now. I mean, the Professor said Mojo thought this would make him happier, so maybe it did. It's still kinda sad, though."

Bubbles rose to rinse out her empty bowl. Buttercup took the opportunity to begin her second. Bubbles walked towards the living room, but Buttercup still felt her presence and turned around to see her leaning on the wall, smiling at and apparently waiting for her.

After Buttercup again drank the last of the contents of the bowl, Bubbles surprised her again by gently taking up her bowl and spoon before they even reached the table. Bubbles leaned forward and kissed Buttercup on the forehead, dishes still in hand.

Buttercup again fidgeted in her chair. "You're friendly today, aren't you?"

Bubbles grinned briefly before responding. "I like to be nice to my family whenever I can. And when _you_ let me," she paused briefly to pull Buttercup forward a little with her free hand and kiss the top of her head, "I know you need it." Thankfully, Bubbles turned away almost immediately and returned to the sink.

As her sister rinsed Buttercup's dishes, Buttercup took note of the time, and of Blossom's continued absence. However, Bubbles finished at the sink and spoke first. "Ready to head to school?"

"What about Blossom?"

Bubbles looked both confused and concerned for a moment. "But Blossom's already left."

"She did?" Buttercup asked skeptically as she verified the time again. "When?"

"Real early this morning, I guess. To get to Alameda on time."

"Alameda?" Buttercup wondered aloud, even more confused. The name was only vaguely familiar to her.

"Yeah, for some Young Science Club thingy or something. Her invitation came when we were out in the ship, remember?"

"I... No, not really. I wasn't around when you guys went through our mail."

"Oh," Bubbles said, slightly surprised. "I guess no one told you, then, huh?"

Buttercup shook her head, still finding the situation suspicious but finding no obvious fault with it. Now that she lacked the opportunity to do so, she realized how much she had hoped to see Blossom again, well and whole. She instead felt a small, persistent worry that she could neither shake nor justify, and considered for a second time whether to talk to Bubbles about her current mental state.

But, no, she decided. She was tougher than that. Stronger than that. She would leave Bubbles be and endure one more day. She'd talk to Professor as soon as she got home, and come clean completely this time.

Shrugging, she left the matter of Blossom be, rising from her chair to fly to school with her remaining sister.


	16. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

[Broken Notes Intermission Vol 2: Crimson Paintings

Buttercup was pleased to return home after a day of no extraordinary circumstance, either in crime or apparent psychosis. She was less pleased, however, at the note that was stuck to the fridge.

"Sorry, girls. Emergency meeting. Help yourselves to supper. I'll be back tonight. -- Dad"

"Meeting?" Buttercup asked.

"Yeah, weird," Bubbles said. "Meeting with who, do you think? I mean, dad's been living off of grant money for so long I don't even know who's paying him to research what, anymore."

"This sucks," Buttercup blurted, unthinking.

"Why's that?" Bubbles asked.

"Oh...no reason," Buttercup lied, leaning back on the table. "Just must suck for him to get called out like that."

"Are you sure that's all?" Bubbles persisted, resting her hip on the counter and sliding her hands into her pockets. "You stayed behind last night, but he said you didn't want to talk about anything."

"Well, maybe that's because I didn't. Don't. I got nothing to talk about, all right? Mojo's the last thing on my mind. Trust me on that."

"Doesn't matter. If there's _anything_ on your mind, you know you can talk to us about it, right?"

"Well, duh," Buttercup agreed, hoping to end the discussion.

"Then why don't you?"

Buttercup jerked her head briefly, the question striking an unusually taut chord in her. "Huh?" she responded lamely.

"You know we love you, right? And since we love you, we'll do whatever we can to make you happy, right? Besides, you don't really need to have something to talk about. I wouldn't mind if we just, you know, talked. I'd like it, actually. I know you get tired of hearing this, but you need to spend more time with other people. It's not healthy, I think."

Buttercup made no reply, nor did she really plan to. It seemed Bubbles either sensed or simply expected this. After giving Buttercup the briefest of hugs (which went unreciprocated), she trotted out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Buttercup continued to stand in silence, her mind on nothing in particular. Eventually she left the table to leave a note of her own: "Gone running. -- Buttercup"

Yet Buttercup did not run. The thought didn't appeal to her right now. Instead she alighted on one of the taller skyscrapers. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she stared into the distance. It seemed it was raining outside Townsville, as she was unable to see the horizon through the distant, dismal gray. Even the sky above the city was growing more dreary as sparse patches of thick, dark clouds flitted in.

Her thoughts, however, rested only briefly on the scenery and the weather. Instead she considered her reluctance to share her problems. Certainly she had some good reasons to keep quiet. What could her family do for her at this point? While they wouldn't brand her "crazy" just yet, the end result was just as unappealing in any case; tossed into the care of strangers for her emotional well-being.

Although she knew she was exaggerating things, she couldn't move past the most basic point: her family couldn't help her. Just as clear, however, was the realization that she couldn't help herself.

The one thing, the _only_ thing she could do right now was put her trust in others and ask for help.

For some uncertain span, she continued to mull over the idea in her mind, fluctuating between various degrees of certainty and uncertainty, comfort and anxiety. A distant peal of thunder drew her from her circular reverie, and she affirmed her desire to come clean. She'd go home and do it right this moment. Even if Professor Utonium wasn't there she'd at least talk to Bubbles.

In a flash, Buttercup was walking through her front door, then up the stairs. Upon reaching the second floor she paused, hearing giggling coming from Bubbles's room. This was followed by a low voice, a boy's voice, speaking words she was unable to discern, and which quieted before she tuned her ears in properly.

Scrunching her eyebrows in curiosity, she approached the door to Bubbles's room and knocked.

"Come in!" Bubbles called in response.


	17. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

[Silent Hill 2: Black Fairy

Buttercup pushed open her sister's door and at first saw nothing. It was not until she stepped inside, until she saw everything, that she saw anything.

Her mouth dropped and she backed into the wall behind her, supporting herself on it. Her eyes swept around the room, flitting from place to place, first noting, of all things they could have taken in, the lack of furniture.

She looked to Bubbles's face, smiling and bright as ever. One eye had vacated its socket for parts unknown, several small trails of dried blood leading away from the gory hole. She was lying on the floor, almost on her side, not quite on her back, facing Buttercup.

Lying on his side behind her was an older boy Buttercup did not recognize, and who did not give her entrance the slightest regard. Blood, some dry and some glistening, smeared his face and neck, especially around his mouth. Supporting himself on his right arm, his free hand cupped Bubbles's chin, while Bubbles's own free hand held his forearm tenderly.

Bubbles's body ended at her waist, though some of her, things that should have been nestled safely inside, went a little further.

Her legs, bare save for her underwear, were in the back corner of the room, sticking in the air, held that way by two other nameless boys, their faces as bloody as the first's. Even without caring to look any more closely, it was apparent that at least one toe was missing and others gnawed on. Several patches of red dotted her calves, and while one of the boys chewed something, the other bent down to her inner thigh, licking the skin of her leg before baring his teeth and--

And Buttercup promptly turned and heaved, although nothing but bile and air came up. Even though she avoided adding to the mess, the pools of blood staining the carpet meant the room could hardly become filthier.

"Hi, Buttercup," Bubbles's singsong voice rang out. "Wanna join us?"

Buttercup gave another heaving cough before she finally looked up. The boy behind her was licking her cheek while Bubbles's hand reached below her waist, her finger sliding along some bloody thing. Bringing her bloodied finger to her mouth, Bubbles licked it clean and said, "I'm very sweet."

Buttercup stumbled out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. She hopped to the first floor and slammed shoulder-first through the front door, blasting it off its hinges and taking flight. She breathed deeply as she ascended, savoring the fresh, clean rain that had finally arrived.

High enough that her home seemed a small thing indeed, Buttercup took her moment of respite to look about her. It was still daytime, but everything was gray and dim, like a colorless twilight had settled. She was surprised to see no lights on in the city.

Feeling sick and tired, Buttercup wanted escape. She wanted to go...to go... To go see Blossom! Yes, she wanted to see her other sister. Wanted to know she really was safe, really was healthy.

She wanted to leave.

Not knowing or, at that moment, particularly caring which direction to go, she simply flew through the city proper and out the other side. Beyond the limits, however, she found herself surrounded by a fog so dense she could see nothing. Flying higher did not help, and before long she realized she no longer knew even up from down, and paused to get her bearings.

Even her preternaturally powerful eyes could not penetrate this fog, and her ears strained in vain. At least aware of the direction of gravity again, she turned her gaze upward and soared. As she did so, the fog around her grew darker, the light filtering through it becoming fainter, until she found herself in darkness where she had expected starlight.

Once more shedding dim red light from her eyes, she stopped again and tried to get a feel for her surroundings. She should have been well out of the atmosphere, but the red light scattered in the omnipresent fog.

Something flitted past her, inches from her face (any further and she would have seen nothing), and she shot backward in response. Again she listened, and at first she heard nothing.

Without warning, a croaking, bird-like squawk sounded from behind. Something sharp and painful sliced at her back, and she reflexively straightened at the pain before spinning around, trying blindly to hit whatever was behind her.

Distantly, she heard the whistle of a train, but hardly registered it when the flap of a large, leathery wing heralded another scratch. Though she reacted more quickly this time, she still felt the talons cut deeply into her cheek.

Quickly Buttercup pressed her tongue against her wounded cheek, glad despite the pain that caused to learn the wound hadn't cut completely through.

She heard the screech again, this time from her side, and immediately shot up ten feet, escaping harm for the moment. As she stared downward, she heard another squawk and flap from above, talons cutting into the back of her head.

In response, she flew forward several dozen feet and turned around. She drew in breath and held it, waiting. Trying to hone in on the approaching, intermittent flapping, she opened her mouth and unleashed an ear-shattering (and earth-splitting, had she been anywhere near the ground) sonic scream. She managed to almost empty her lungs when a new slice on the back of her calf caused her to grit her teeth and draw breath.

Her own cry finally finished, it was now echoed by dozens and dozens of croaking squawks and screeches coming from every direction. Among them she heard again what sounded like an approaching train.

Still effectively blind, uncertain what to do, Buttercup shot off forward and down. In her dive she collided with one of the unseen flying creatures, causing a screech of protest. The collision sent Buttercup spiraling briefly, and just before she picked up speed again another set of talons scratched her left arm. At the same time yet another of the things flapped very close from the other side, startling her before it made a strong jab, possibly a peck, at her temple.

Holding up her hand to her head, Buttercup's ears were overwhelmed by the sound of countless leathery wings. They did not screech, now.

Buttercup tried to move onward again and felt claws and beaks lay into her even as she slowly picked up speed. They were so thick she almost felt as she were swimming through a sea of wings and sharp claws.

"Stop it!" she cried repeatedly, holding her arms up to protect her face as she made her course, excruciating in both pain and pace. When it seemed the attacks were coming so quickly there was no pause between them, she loosed a final, desperate "Stop!" as she felt...rain.


	18. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

[Silent Hill 3: Lost Cause

Buttercup jolted awake and found that she was still atop the skyscraper. The distant rain had indeed arrived, a heavy downpour. She was soaked, but relieved to see lights dotting the cityscape. She didn't know how much time had passed, but it certainly looked dark enough to be nighttime.

Her heart still raced, and the memory of her pain was strong enough it almost seemed real, though her skin and her clothes were unmarred. Assuming she must have dozed off, she worried if it would happen again, and how soon. But what if she hadn't fallen asleep? What if this was something different? Could she trust her judgment anymore?

Not daring to wait another moment, she came to her feet and again took flight for home.

She stepped inside and called out, "Professor? Bubbles? I really need to talk to someone now! Hello? Please?" She peeked into the kitchen and living room as she called, walking about with no concern for the water she dripped onto the floor. She felt so elated with the simple act of asking for help that she did not care.

"Buttercup, sweetie, what's the matter?" Professor responded, coming up from the lab in a rush. He was balling up a lab coat, probably freshly removed. Buttercup's eyes rested on a spot of red amidst the white before it was folded out of view.

"Dad, I think something's really, really wrong with me," Buttercup said. She was firm at first but near-to-tears before she finished, her throat swelling painfully and cutting off further words.

Looking around, apparently for a place to put the coat, he instead tucked it under his arm and came to Buttercup, dropping to one knee. He put his free hand around her waist and said, "What is it, honey? Tell me what's wrong."

Her tears flowed freely, a steady stream now. Her mouth gaped and despite her struggles no further words came out.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" he asked.

Buttercup shook her head. Her powers of speech finally returned. "That's not what's wrong. I...I keep seeing things. Things that aren't real."

"What...kinds of things, Buttercup?" Professor asked cautiously.

"Bad things. Like... Like..." Buttercup stopped fishing for an example and instead exclaimed, "Bubbles! Where is Bubbles? I want to see her!"

Professor opened his mouth, but hesitated, looking uncertain before he replied. "Buttercup, Bubbles is not--Bubbles is not here right now." Seeing Buttercup's look of growing panic, he quickly added, "There's been a political incident overseas. They suspected that an attack came from a different source than it was made to look like. I was asked to confirm it, and did, but now they need an emergency translator to smooth things over and share our findings. I felt that...with her linguistic talents. Maybe also a calming... Buttercup, are you all right?" He asked as she descended to sobbing.

"Why does she have to be gone? Why is everybody leaving me?"

"Shh, shh," Professor said, hugging Buttercup more tightly with his free hand. "Nobody's leaving you, honey. Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. I guess... I saw bad things."

Professor Utonium seemed to pause for an undue length of time before asking again, a little more flatly than expected, "What kind of things, honey?"

"I saw them hurt. And I keep having...nightmares or something."

Professor backed out of the hug and stood. He gave Buttercup a comforting smile and said, "Don't worry, honey, I'll take care of you. Would you go down to the lab and wait for me?"

"I... I don't want to be alone right now. I don't know what'll happen."

Professor paused, then nodded, smiling in understanding. "All right, then. Go ahead and take my hand, then." He offered her his free hand, his other still holding the lab coat close. Buttercup did so, gripping as firmly as she dared, wishing she could squeeze with all her might without hurting him.

Together they descended to the lab as peals of rain ran down the windows, an almost-smooth sheet of water. Buttercup continued to drip as well as she walked down the stairs. Professor shoved his coat into the trash can at the bottom of the stairs as he walked by.

Still leading his daughter by the hand, Professor Utonium motioned for her to sit in his office chair. It was his favorite, and he'd been using it for many years, now. Buttercup smiled a little as she sank into the comfortably-worn leather, which provided an amazing degree of softness considering the metal frame of the chair itself.

The plastic covering of the armrest, though worn smooth, wasn't quite as comfortable. These were supported by curved metal poles, joining the rest of the frame at the seat and on the back.

Buttercup remembered a time she and her sisters had damaged the chair while roughhousing some years back, making the top of one armrest separate from the back of chair. Buttercup had given it a quick spot-weld, not wanting to cause too much heat damage and make their mishap obvious. She was pleased that it had apparently held all this time. Happy to recall something from brighter days.

Professor reached into a nearby overhead cabinet and pulled out a small vial of grayish-black liquid. He borrowed his other hand from Buttercup's grasp for a moment to open it, wafting the scent to his nose.

With a nod of approval, he squatted beside Buttercup and handed her the vial, taking her hand again and rubbing it reassuringly. "Go ahead and drink this down, sweetie," he said in a near-whisper. "It'll calm your nerves."

Buttercup smiled weakly and gave a single sharp nod before doing as she'd been asked. She grimaced a little at the bitter, gritty taste. Although a liquid, it felt almost dry for its chalkiness.

Professor smiled, taking the vial back when it was offered. Setting that loosely on his desk, he picked up a paperweight next to it. It was a slightly dirty, off-white piece of what looked like dried up clay. In reality, it was a highly malleable substance, but only under extreme pressures. A little souvenir from an earlier adventure. To people with strength like the girls, it was much like a piece of clay that never dried out.

Professor handed her the lump. The girls had eventually tired of the thing, but they kept it down here and sometimes played with it while waiting for Professor to do something. Smiling, he said, "Why don't you try squeezing that to relieve some stress while I make a call."

Buttercup's smile was almost genuine this time, thanks to another reminder of happy days. She immediately gave the lump a powerful squeeze as Professor opened a desk drawer. She was dismayed, however, to find it unyielding.

Even as she looked up to voice her concern, Professor snapped one end of a set of handcuffs onto her wrist and the other to the armrest of the chair.

At first Buttercup simply stared at her restraint. Careful to maintain her calm, she pulled loosely, straining her arm against the restraint. When the cuffs did not simply snap, she jerked her arm hard, but the cuffs still held.

Without looking up, she said, "Dad, I don't know if you can hear me, but I think I'm having another nightmare or something."

Softly, with an effort at a business-like tone that almost covered his weary concern, Professor replied, "No, Buttercup, you're not having a nightmare. This is very real, and I need you to stay with me for a few minutes. Stay grounded, all right?"

Buttercup looked up with mild confusion. "But if this is real, why did you handcuff me? And what happened to my strength?"

"You just drank antidote X, and I need to make sure you don't make a big fuss over this. Now the first thing I want you to tell me is what you saw happen to your sisters."

Buttercup scrunched up her face in hard thought, considering the situation, weighing it against all that had happened. She recalled all that had happened, separating the nightmares and the hallucinations. The nightmares quickly moved from calm to horrifying. The hallucinations, however, had been weird sights and sounds, but nothing real. Nothing that would, say, restrain her in a chair.

Increasingly, she found herself convinced this really was neither a nightmare nor a hallucination.

"What's wrong with me?" Buttercup asked, a little anger in her voice.

"Please, honey, this is very important. What did you see happen to your sisters?"

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, she answered, "I saw Blossom's head carved open, and the next day she was gone. Tonight I dreamed Bubbles was cut in half, and now she's gone."

"Is that all?" he asked, showing no reaction to Buttercup's confession. "Would you describe anything else you've experienced as prophetic?"

"Prophetic?" Buttercup asked scornfully. But she did wonder about some things. Worms eating Mojo, macabre as it sounded, may not have been far from reality.

At that, Buttercup finally realized the full implication of the word. "Prophetic?" she asked again, this time more earnestly. "Blossom, Bubbles--where are they? Are they all right?"

Professor walked over to the chair, pushing it across the room. He stopped it in front of the supply cabinet Buttercup had been unable to look into, about five feet away from it.

Walking around and kneeling in front of her, albeit out of reach, Professor put on a very serious expression and said, "Honey, I'm very sorry to show you this, but I promise you won't remember any of it later."

Without further word or gesture, he rose and walked to the cabinet. Pulling a key chain from his pocket, he unlocked the cabinet and opened the doors, standing aside as he did so to provide an unobstructed view.

Buttercup gasped, her eyes gaping at the sight inside. Wrapped inside transparent plastic bags, she saw the remains of her sisters.


	19. Chapter 0

Chapter 0

[Silent Hill 1: Never Again (track 29)

Before Buttercup's shock faded, Professor asked, "Now if you can, and I understand if you can't, but try to tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how accurately what you saw matches up with this."

"No," Buttercup said in open-mouthed shock. After shaking her head to regain a little composure, she struggled, banging around the chair and making it roll across the floor a little as she tried again to pull her arm free, "No! Get me out of here! Let me up!"

As she struggled, Professor closed the cabinet doors. Before he turned his attention back to her, she jumped out of the chair to try escaping up the stairs with the chair still attached. The legs of the chair, however, caught up on the stairs and tripped her. Before she recovered, Professor was grabbing her up in his arms and pulling her back.

She kicked, screamed, and struggled futilely. She felt something press against her face. For the briefest moment she noted what an odd smell it was, then blacked out.

Later on, when she struggled to open her heavy-lidded eyes, she noticed she was in the lab. Soon after that realization, she remembered how she'd gotten there. She sat up straight, jostling the handcuffs as she did so.

"Careful, honey," Professor said flatly. She saw he was working with something out of her view, his back turned. "I left you the chair so you could be comfortable. I'll restrain you somewhere else if I have to."

"Why are you doing this? Dad, please tell me this isn't real!"

"Tell me, is it real if you don't remember it?" He turned around now, holding up a small black case about the size of an old-fashioned cassette tape. A while label stuck to it read "Buttercup."

"Everything from this point on means nothing. Everything else, however, is right here." He shook the box slightly for effect. "Same goes for your sisters. I'll just make new ones, write back their essence, and everything will be back to normal again. Then we can try another round. I'm very pleased with your progress, Buttercup. I'll do what I can to mitigate the side effects next time, I promise."

Buttercup tried to clear the remaining cobwebs and make sense of this.

Turning away again, Professor continued. "I know there are ways I can make you girls better. Blossom's ice breath and Bubbles's linguistic talents, for example, were simple and safe enough. Once I found ways to safely store your thoughts and memories, however, I felt I could be a little more...free to experiment. After all, what is death to someone that was never 'born' in the first place?"

"You... You can't mean that," Buttercup sputtered.

Reacting to the tone of her voice, Professor immediately turned to face her. "Please, Buttercup, I didn't mean to sound so cold. I love you girls very much, and I wouldn't do anything to really hurt you. I promise, you won't remember seeing your sisters like that--except in those dreams you talked about. I promise you, your sisters didn't feel anything, and won't remember anything, and neither will you. You girls never remembered the other times, right?"

"Other...times? But... You mean..."

"That's right, honey. So, see? Everything's going to be just fine. All I'm going to do now is make you go to sleep so you don't feel any pain. Once I'm finished--"

"What? Then you'll _kill_ me? You can't be serious! How can you treat us this way?" Buttercup was practically screaming at this point.

Shaking his head sadly, Professor turned around and picked up a hypodermic. Buttercup looked down, noting that the base of the chair was tied securely to one of the legs of the heavy counters. Unless she freed herself from the chair somehow, she wasn't going far.

Shifting her position, planting a foot on the armrest she was cuffed to, she tried one last tactic. With a burst of effort, she snapped her shoddy, years-old weld, once again separating part of the armrest from the chair.

Sliding the cuff free and leaping from the chair, she bolted for the stairs while her father shouted, "Wait! Stop!"

She grabbed onto the stair railing to change direction without slowing down, starting her ascent. When she felt a hand try to grab onto her, she kicked out behind with her other foot, feeling it connect. Not daring to pause, she didn't look behind when she heard a single, loud clunk. It could have been Professor falling back onto the stairs, or simply grabbing the rail forcefully to prevent such a fall. In either case, Buttercup made it to the front door with no further delay.


	20. Chapter NaN

Chapter NaN

[Silent Hill 1: Die

Buttercup burst out of her house into the pouring rain. It was dark, aside from streetlights and occasional flashes of distant lightning. She sprinted down the sidewalk, not certain whether she dared stop at any of the houses or try to hide. The rain streamed into her eyes, blurring them and forcing her to either squeeze her eyelids shut or wipe away the rain with almost every stride.

With her vision problems, she was not surprised when she couldn't see whether anyone was behind her. With the splattering of the downpour, neither did she expect to hear approaching steps. Being shorter and, thus, possibly slower, her one advantage was that she was far more athletic than her desk jockey father. For this reason, she did not allow for pause even when she developed a stitch in her side.

Finally she decided to turn a corner, and as she did so her location became clearer. In front of her was a small train station, no longer in service. Seeing this landmark, she knew she'd just run several blocks through the rain.

Standing still was causing her to hurt even more, and she knew she needed to keep moving anyway. She jogged around the steps of the station to a spot where one of the windows had been boarded up, but which neighborhood kids had created an entryway through.

After squeezing inside, she forced herself to jog a little further yet across the dusty floors. Most of the windows were clouded and dirty, but the curving skylight of glass and iron above let in some light from nearby streetlights. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the area with a flickering glow, revealing shapes and casting shadows that were unnerving to Buttercup's fear-stoked imagination.

She stopped to rest on an old bench in the station proper, the one furthest to her left. Its back pressed against the wall, but Buttercup leaned forward, tired. Between attempts to steady her breathing and listen over her pounding heart, she heard only the splatter of rain on the skylight above, and occasional peals of thunder.

Eventually calming enough to rest her head on the wall behind her, she closed her eyes briefly and began work on settling her nerves.

She opened her eyes again when she heard a foot scrape across the floor. Somewhere behind her, in the lobby, the shuffling footsteps continued, accompanied by occasional wet clicking sounds.

Standing up carefully, Buttercup looked around. Closing her eyes a moment ago had helped them to adjust to the near-darkness, and she spotted a rusty crowbar leaning against a column a dozen feet away.

Moving as quietly as possible, she took one step towards it and, hearing the squish of her wet shoes, winced and ran the rest of the way to the column. She snatched up the crowbar and tried to get a feel for the weighty thing.

Her eyes fixed on the entryway to the station, waiting for the unseen individual to come through this archway into the main station area. When it came, stumbling around the corner, Buttercup didn't need a lot of light to recognize what she saw. A silhouette from the side revealed only the face to be intact, with the rest of the head missing.

With a jerk, Blossom's head turned to face Buttercup. The faint light on the other side of her head made her eyes and nostrils seem to glow faintly. She made several more of those wet clicking sounds, her head twitching to the side sporadically as she began shuffling closer, faster, seeming almost excited.

"No! Don't! Stay back!" Buttercup warned, walking backwards slowly. Blossom was shuffling forward much more quickly than Buttercup was moving, gaining ground with alarming fierceness. Lifting the crowbar, Buttercup warned again, "I'll hit you! Stay back!"

Blossom simply made several more wet clicking sounds as she began traversing the final few feet. Buttercup closed her eyes and swung hard, with a cry of effort.

Blossom lurched to the side, off balance from the blow. She held her arms out and put one foot forward to steady herself. For several seconds she was perfectly still, like a toy that had wound down. Then her head jerked a few times before swiveling around at an unnatural angle to look again at Buttercup.

This time with a cry of fear, Buttercup raised the crowbar overhead with both hands and swung down, sending Blossom sprawling to the floor.

Buttercup began running, a part of her knowing this surely could not be real, and also that now was the time she could least afford another episode.

With Blossom down, at least for the moment, Buttercup ran towards the other end of the station, her muscles still aching from their recent strain, slightly stiff from their rest.

"Hey," Bubbles's voice called casually, if hoarsely. Buttercup stopped and spun, holding the crowbar like a baseball bat. Bubbles, or at least her upper half, was sitting on the bench she'd just run past.

Bubbles reached out her empty hand as if she wanted to hold her sister's. "Don't be afraid, sis." Her outstretched hand closed, one finger pointing instead, "Daddy's here."

Buttercup widened her eyes in concern and, without even looking, swung her crowbar out as she turned around again.

She hit nothing but air and had to recover her balance. But, yes, Professor Utonium had been standing behind her, but out of reach of her swing. He held up her "black box," as it were, the label dampened from the rain and starting to peel from one edge. Professor was wearing a tan rain poncho, the hood drawn up, his other hand unseen.

"Please, Buttercup, be reasonable. We've been through this procedure more than a dozen times, now. You're overreacting."

Before responding, Buttercup was startled when something grabbed her ankle. She gasped and tried to step aside, but was held firmly in place. She looked down to see Bubbles lying on the floor, on her stomach, holding her ankle with a bloody hand. "Please, big sister? Please let him make you better?" Breathing fast, Buttercup slammed the straight end of the crowbar onto her sister's hand several times before it finally let go.

"Buttercup, I don't know what you're looking at, but there's nothing down there," Professor said calmly. He hadn't shifted an inch in all this, holding carefully steady, trying not to upset Buttercup further.

Buttercup looked up at him, then back to the floor, and Bubbles was gone.

She defensively raised the crowbar again. Then, slowly, she let it droop until the tip rested on the ground, her hand barely gripping it. Her head drooped through this as well, making her look weary and defeated.

Without looking at him, instead staring discretely at Professor's feet, she asked, "This will... You'll make me better, right? Stop the nightmares?"

"Yes, I promise. If things really are this hard on you, I'll abandon the strain completely if that'll make you feel better."

Buttercup sniffled, nodded meekly, and waited. She saw Professor take two slow steps forward.

She jerked her head upright, gripping the crowbar firmly again. Taking him by surprise, she swung hard, hitting her mark.

His arm was pushed to the side by the impact, and Buttercup thought she might have injured his thumb, but her black box went soaring free of his hand. Whether from her blow, hitting the nearby wall, or both, it hit the ground in several pieces, some transparent jelly-like substance scattering around and oozing out.

Professor grunted and tucked his hand under his poncho while Buttercup ran further into the station, hopping down onto the tracks and continuing. Half of the station was built into a hill, and it was into the tunnel she chose to run, clutching the crowbar close to tighten her center of gravity.

From here, the rain was inaudible, so she heard clearly the approaching footsteps on the gravel and wood surface behind her. She gritted her teeth and tried to run faster, but couldn't tell if she was making headway. With a grunt, she half-dropped, half-tossed the crowbar behind her and went all out, arms pumping, choosing escape over conflict.

There was no light in these tunnels, save for the dim glow behind that was too distant to be of use now, and a steady light that seemed very far ahead of her. Thus, it should have been no great surprise when she tripped.

She slid forward a few feet after she hit the ground, scraping her palms on the rough surface. Almost immediately Professor was on her, his knee pressing painfully into her back. Ahead of them, a train whistle echoed. Buttercup looked up to see that the distant light was actually approaching.

Buttercup heard her father grunt. A sharp pain ran from her head throughout her body as her face was driven into the ground. A moment later her head pulled back slightly as whatever had been driven into her was pulled out, and she began to scream and struggle in renewed panic.

"Hold still!" Professor demanded, anger in his voice. Another stab of the unseen implement. "I'm trying to help you!" Again. "I'm making you better!" Again. "You have to get better!" Even as this continued the train approached. Buttercup heard its whistle blow again, this time harder to hear with the growing sounds of rumbling and screeching.

"No more!" she screamed. "Please, no more!" Drawing in a deep breath, she cried a prolonged, piercing, "Please!"


	21. Chapter

Chapter

[Silent Hill 4: Room of Angel

Buttercup's eyes slowly drifted open. Her hand slid across the slats of the station bench as she stared ahead, eyelids still drooping. The station was filled with a light fog that almost resembled floating dust. Everything was well lit with a mild gray light. The rain seemed to have stopped and, indeed, there was no sound here at all, aside from those evoked by her own movements.

She slowly panned her head to her left, then her right, and saw only scattered bits of trash and other refuse, pockmarked with soda cans and other signs of more recent activity.

In front of her, sitting silently on the tracks, was a passenger train. Every window was empty. Every door was open.

Looking up, she saw only impenetrable mist beyond the skylight. Her eyes rested again on the train.

After a few more moments of lazy scrutiny, she stood up. She looked again to her side, taking a few steps to peer into the entryway. The front doors of the station were wide open, though again she saw only mist beyond them.

Buttercup took a step towards the entryway and paused again. She stared at the exit for almost a minute before she looked over her shoulder at the train again.

Facing the exit once more, she softly drew in a deep breath and held it a while before releasing it.

Yet again she looked at the train, this time turning to face it instead of craning her neck. She took one step towards it, then another, and soon was strolling towards one of the open passenger cars. She grabbed the rail near the door and paused to look back one last time before she stepped inside.

Her steps were much more muffled on the thin carpet inside. Inside, every passenger compartment was also open. As she walked from the front of the car to the back, she glanced in them as she passed, finding each empty in turn.

She stopped when she reached the end, staring into the compartment to her left for several seconds. Eventually, she stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind her and taking a seat next to the window. She pressed her cheek against it, enjoying the coolness of the glass.

Soon after, the train jolted slightly. Although the motion made her shake slightly, she did not outwardly react. Slowly the train began to pull forward. Its sounds, though they had been loud and ominous from the outside, were muffled and distant here.

The train continued to pick up speed as it pulled out of the station. Once it left, Buttercup again found herself able to see only mist outside.

As the train continued its journey, now at full speed, rumbling ever-so-gently, her gaze did not drift from the window.


	22. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Professor Utonium sat in a heap on the cold metal floor, his surgical gown and gloves bloodied. The dim emergency lights flickered briefly when a stream of sparks shot from the wall nearby. His eyes were focused on the center of the room, though it is doubtful he could see clearly through his tears or hear anything beyond his sobs and the steady flatline tone.

Resting before him, now very, very still, was Buttercup. Her skull had been opened up and bloody surgical instruments rested nearby. Protruding from her brain were several inches of black metal with a mirror-like gloss. Tendrils of similar-looking material seemed to have spread from there, making winding courses through her brain.


End file.
